Pokémon Hammer & Sickle (Parts 1 & 2)
by ProfessorPalmarosa
Summary: 15-year-old Cynthia and Cyrus are accepted for a research program in the mysterious, cold, and politically hostile Kinzo region (Soviet Union). A harsh climate, corrupt Pokémon League, and untrustworthy professor are only a few of the hardships faced in this Platinum prequel. M rating for language, graphic violence, and some adult subject matter.
1. First Choice

It was a beautiful day in early spring: the first warm day of March. The frost thawed, the grass turned green again, and many of the flowering plants were starting to blossom. A crisp, mountainous scent filled the air: one part earthy, one part herbal, and perhaps with a faint trace of ozone.

"Most Pokémon enjoy this kind of weather," she found herself telling an excited young trainer.

She remembered what she'd been like at his age: ten years old, embarking on her first journey, and assisting Professor Rowan with his research. True, it had only been five years since then, but there were already talks from the Sinnoh Pokémon League to evaluate her for a potential opening among the Elite Four.

Not that any of that would surprise anyone who knew her. Cynthia came from a long line of powerful trainers. Although his tenure was short-lived, her father had even briefly served as Champion when she was little. Whatever she chose to do, everyone agreed that her future would be a bright and shining one.

"Isn't this the time of year that Shaymin comes back to Floaroma Town?" the boy piped up. "Because I _really_ want to meet it."

Cynthia raised an eyebrow and gave the boy a knowing look. "If all you truly want to do is _meet_ it, then I don't mind telling you. But if you want to _catch_ it, you're on your own."

"But—"

"Legendary Pokémon should not be trapped or confined by trainers," she explained. "Many of them serve important roles in how the fabric of our very universe operates. For instance, Dialga—see here in the ruins? It's this one—controls time. If an overly ambitious trainer somehow managed to capture Dialga and wielded its power, he could potentially stop all time. Forever."

The severity of those consequences seemed to weigh heavily on the boy's mind. His mouth remained open, standing there in awe. "And Shaymin…?"

"Shaymin turned a barren little town into a beautiful world of flowers. On a small scale, you may doom Floaroma Town into becoming a wasteland again. On a larger scale, who do you think saves our crops when the farmers have a bad season? When the winter's longer than usual and we have less food?"

"You mean people would starve if I caught it? Gee…" She could tell from the way he chewed on his bottom lip and furrowed his brow that the boy was reconsidering the hunt. "Then I'm just gonna meet it after all, so I can say thank you. My dad's a farmer. I don't want to make life harder on him and everyone else!"

Cynthia smiled warmly, ruffling the child's hair. "Smart boy," she rewarded him, offering a Rare Candy in exchange for listening to her. "Listen, Danny. The next time you're in Celestic Town, stop by the ruins. My grandmother or I could tell you more about the Legendary Pokémon of this region. There's so many myths and stories. Would you like that?"

"Sure!" But it was clear he wanted to hit the road while there was still light in the sky. "See ya later, Cynthia! It was nice meeting you!"

She waved goodbye, watching as her new friend rode off into the sunset, his Shinx chasing behind his bicycle excitedly. ' _Oh, to be that age again. It feels like the whole world is opening up for you, eager to show you all its secrets. It's just you, your Pokémon, and no responsibilities beyond that._ '

And just as the nostalgia hit her at her hardest, she felt a light tap against her right knee. Glancing down, she saw her Gible nudging her head against her leg. "Okay, okay. I hear you. I think we should go home, too." So began their walk.

…

Returning home took a bit longer than Cynthia anticipated; if only because she and Gible stopped to buy dinner at a fast food joint. Almost every night, her grandmother prepared a three-course meal. Sometimes Cynthia wanted to surprise her with a little something she didn't have to cook. It wasn't much; just a couple of burgers and a large order of fries they could share.

"Sorry we're late! Gible and I ran into a tourist looking for information on Shaymin, and…Grandmother?"

Professor Carolina was sitting at the kitchen table. She hadn't even started dinner preparation. All her attention remained fixated on a mint-colored piece of paper: a letter. Cynthia sat in the chair next to the old woman and leaned a bit closer so she could read the writing on the letter's torn-open envelope.

' _There's additional postage. This is an international letter!_ ' She picked up the envelope, only to notice her grandmother wasn't the intended recipient. _She_ was. "Hey…this is my mail!"

"It sure is," Carolina chuckled, handing the paper over. "I hope you don't mind that I already opened it. As soon as I saw where it came from, I had a hunch it was—"

"What if it was a love letter?" Cynthia growled, but not in any seriousness. "I mean it! I'd appreciate it if you stopped opening my mail! But since you already read this," she rolled it into a cylinder shape and lightly tapped Carolina's arm. "Tell me: is it good news or bad news?"

"I'm not going to spoil that for you, Cynthia. Read at your leisure and—oh! You brought home takeout!"

"Help yourself. Take as many fries as you want." Her attention was fully on the letter now.

 **Cynthia,**

 **A few months ago, you applied for my one-year internship in the Kinzo Region, where you would be assisting me in collecting further data on Pokémon migratory patterns.**

 **I have reviewed all applicants and selected the three people I wish to represent my work. You were my first choice.**

 **Enclosed, you will find your one-way plane ticket to the Natrium Town Airport. I have filed the required permits for you and your two soon-to-be associates, so everything should be in order when you arrive on March 15.**

 **My research team is eager to meet you, but none so more than myself. We'll talk soon.**

 **~Professor Myrtle**

"My application was approved…" It took a moment for that to sink in, but the excitement built inside her like magma beneath a volcano. "Grandmother, I'm going to Kinzo! It will be just like helping Professor Rowan again!" But Carolina shook her head. "No?"

"You've always been the kind of girl who could figure her way around any place, so long as you had a map and a little change in your pocket. I'm sure you'll be fine, but Kinzo isn't Sinnoh. I never had to worry about you out here. There, though, I may have to."

"If it's because it's a different region, I visited my parents in Unova last year. They were studying the Relic Castle, and we were perfectly fine." But Carolina still wasn't convinced. "You don't want me to go, do you?"

"What? No! Of course I want you to go! This is a golden opportunity and a chance for you to see a region nobody in the family has ever visited before! I'm sure you'll have a wonderful time and meet all kinds of fascinating people. Just promise me you'll be a little extra cautious while you're out there, okay? There's parts of the Kinzo frontier that are really, _really_ dangerous."

' _She's just worried because she cares. That's all._ ' And hearing that made her heart feel a bit warmer. Cynthia held out her arms so she could give the older lady a hug.

"I'll try to call you every week, just to check in and let you know how things are going…"

…

Gible wanted to snuggle into bed with her. Sometimes Cynthia let her do it. Other times, she didn't. Tonight, Gible was acting especially cuddly, so Cynthia couldn't bring herself to turn the Pokémon away. She stroked the creature's red belly for a while until it turned drowsy and found a place to comfortably spoon her.

She must have read Professor Myrtle's letter seven or eight times, putting it to memory. Was it the prettiest set of words anyone had ever sent her? No; that honor still went to an anonymous Academy peer who stuffed a love poem into her locker. She'd been nine years old and found it more hilarious than romantic at the time, but she never threw it away. Somewhere, deep in her desk, she'd stored it: bringing it out again for a quick pick-me-up on gloomy days.

' _I don't know what she's so afraid of. Professor Myrtle is a Sinnoh native. She used to lecture at Canalave University.'_

She'd even picked up some of those lectures and listened to them on tape. In fact, Cynthia heard so many of the professor's lectures that she'd read the entire letter in Myrtle's voice.

' _And if the flight to Kinzo is anything like the one I took to Unova, the airline will brief us on the region's code of conduct before we land._ '

She scratched behind Gible's ear. ' _We'll be fine. It's going to be a promising new journey. New locations, new people, new Pokémon…'_


	2. Full Potential

"I think you're a perfect fit for this. You should apply."

While Cyrus hesitated to call his Robotics teacher a friend, he at least viewed the older man as a mentor. As much as he lauded himself as a misanthrope, the fifteen-year-old spent every Tuesday and Thursday for the past two semesters staying late to work on his homework and chat in the lab.

In here, every idea was valid and worth pursuing. They could bounce ideas back and forth, keeping pace with one another, because Dr. Plutarski spoke his language. He never shut Cyrus down before he had a chance to justify why a project was important. If he wanted to try it, he could try it. For once, someone listened and it felt nice.

He felt important: like his words actually mattered to somebody. Sometimes he suspected Dr. Plutarski needed a listener, too. He'd recently lost his old job and moved back to Sinnoh, hoping to reconnect with his remaining family. It didn't go well. Now he felt like a relic, "like FORTRAN in an XML world."

Leave it to his mother to remove the rose-tinted glasses and return him to reality. So far as Nichole was concerned, the world was populated by only two types of people: dreamers and doers. Dreamers came up with ideas, but seldom followed through on applying them. Doers stole those ideas and reaped all rewards. She saw her son as a dreamer, which irked Cyrus greatly. It made him sound more idealistic than practical.

Now every time he came in here, a little voice in the back of his head nagged him to be cautious with his words, just in case Dr. Plutarski was picking his brain for good ideas to pawn off as his own. It put a damper on their budding friendship, as paranoia was wont to do.

"I think a change of scenery will be good for you," his teacher continued. "Considering how stifling your home life is, this might even give you an opportunity to _breathe_. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Cyrus stared at the application for a while, mulling it over. "I wouldn't be so hesitant if this were Kanto or Hoenn; but Kinzo's a hellhole. Their government is crooked. Many parts of the region still fight their Pokémon to the death. And the weather…"

He'd heard horror stories about the weather. The Kinzo region was fairly close to the Arctic Circle and mostly consisted of tundra and taiga biomes. Very few things grew there. In fact, the terrain was so cold and unpredictable that people weren't allowed to leave the towns or cities without a Fire Pokémon. It was a harsh, merciless hell-scape eternally trapped in winter. Some parts of it were even radioactive.

…but it couldn't be any worse than spending another year under Alexander and Nichole's roof. He'd stopped thinking of them as his parents a long time ago. As soon as he graduated, he'd sever all ties and leave. There was nothing in either of them worth staying around for.

"There's nothing quite like venturing into the heart of darkness to discover what kind of a man you are," his teacher insisted. "Not the perfect son your family expects. Not the boy genius the town sees. Not even the promising young inventor I've grown to admire. I'm talking about the _real_ you: who Cyrus is at his very core." He pushed the paper a bit closer to the teen, grinning. "Aren't you curious to meet him?"

"Did you ever do this?" Cyrus countered. "Go to Kinzo, I mean."

Dr. Plutarski took off his glasses so he could polish them: a subconscious ritual Cyrus noted he tended to do when he was mulling something over. "I was still in college at the time, so it was at least thirty years ago. My best friend wanted to beat the Kinzo League Challenge over summer vacation and talked me into joining him. By the time summer was over, we got halfway. While I was out there, I met myself."

"Did you like yourself?" That long silence told Cyrus everything he needed to know. "I see. I need a few more days to think this over. When's the cut-off date for applications?"

"A week from now. If you don't think your father will approve of this, you're welcome to submit your application through the school."

"And if he finds out?"

"He'll only find out if you're accepted. And if _that_ happens, just remember: it's better to beg forgiveness than to wait for permission."

…

"I don't understand. Even when he's ill, my son completes all his work on time. Dr. Newton has never deducted any marks for that, and he's maintained a perfect grade in her class all semester. I'm just trying to wrap my brain around why he's suddenly showing as _failing_ …"

Although his father could make his voice sound calm and sincere, he was lucky this conversation wasn't over a videophone. If the administrative assistant—or whichever other representative of Sunyshore Magnet School of Science and Mathematics called the household—could see Alexander's face, she'd realize he was one word away from breaking her nose.

As soon as Alexander saw Cyrus was home, he turned the conversation onto speaker so his son could hear it, too. "It's your school," he told him while the admin was still on mute. "You're apparently failing Language Arts."

' _Failing…? That's impossible!'_

Cyrus could already feel the bile rising into his throat. His father seldom hit him, but he could tell there were times when Alexander wanted to. When he got like this, it was best to say nothing, keep his head low, and wait for the storm to pass. This, though…this caught him off guard.

"Sir, are you still there?" the administrative assistant called out.

"Sorry. I put myself on mute for a minute. Go on."

"I feel like I need to clarify what's going on. Cyrus's grade this term is no reflection on his intelligence, but rather the number of absences he's taken from Language Arts. He always does the work on time and does it perfectly, but he's called in sick so many times that Dr. Newton has expressed some concerns."

He wasn't an outwardly emotional person. Most of his feelings, he kept pent up inside. What he felt at this moment, however, was the emotion he wished he could negate the most: _fear_. With every word the school admin simpered into the phone, Cyrus watched Alexander's pale, hard face turn redder and redder. He'd erupt, and there would be nowhere to run.

He felt it in his stomach: twisting around and turning his intestines into knots. The back of his head felt hot and light. His heart beat faster. All of these things he recognized from psychology class: a subconscious preparation for fight or flight…and there was no way he'd win a fight. Not today, not ever.

"…so long as he can provide a note from the school nurse or a physician stating that he really is sick, we can excuse the absences…"

It may as well have been static. The words were swimming around in his head. _Incomplete. Malingering. Partial Credit._ _Repeating_ —

A click sound indicated Alexander turned off the receiver. "You fucked up," he growled. "I'm not surprised, considering it's you. But let me make something clear to you. You call in sick one more time this semester and I'll send you to the hospital for real."

"There are laws against—"

"Who said you could talk?!" His father's voice went several decibels higher, loud enough that Cyrus could hear the clacking of his mother's high heels on the hardwood floors, growing closer. By now, his skin was crawling. Nichole wasn't going to take his side on this. She never did.

She stopped at the bottom of the stairs, icy blue eyes turned toward her spouse. "What did I miss?"

"Dr. Newton's about to fail our kid."

"Oh? Did she say why?"

"Truancy."

That wasn't exactly correct. Truancy implied Cyrus skipped class like a delinquent, which he wasn't. He'd called in sick because he felt the way he did at that exact moment: like he could vomit from sheer nerves with just one misplaced word. It wasn't his turn to talk, though. It was his mother's turn.

Nichole poked him sharply in the stomach with one of her long fake nails. It didn't leave. The sharp, uncomfortable thing poked so deep that it would leave a mark through her child's clothing. "This is inexcusable."

"I don't care if your damn appendix bursts in the middle of class," Alexander hissed. "You're not missing any more days! If you feel nauseous, just bring a bucket. You hear me?"

Nichole took off her horn-rimmed glasses long enough to rub her thumb and index finger over her eyelids. A quick puff of breath left her lips: her version of a sigh. "I hope you understand why we're upset about this. Your malingering could permanently mar your GPA, ruining your chances of keeping the Valedictorian seat. Second best isn't welcome in his house, Cyrus. If your father or I see an F past midterms due to more absences…"

Cyrus closed his eyes, realizing to his shame that his face was hot and his eyes were damp. "I understand." He choked on the words because his throat felt so hot.

Eventually, he submitted the application out of spite.

…

The final bell for the day rang. All the other students left the robotics lab, but Cyrus stayed behind to help clean up. He grabbed the strap on his messenger bag a little tighter and took a more forceful stride toward Dr. Plutarski. "We need to talk."

"I agree."

"I mean it. My mother's still convinced you're going to plagiarize my work. She even wants me to talk with a patent lawyer at the end of the semester, just so—"

"You were accepted."

Cyrus's blue eyes widened when he heard that. "The internship? When I gave you the application, I told you I wasn't even sure if I wanted…" Words began to escape him. A sensation similar to anxiety filled his body, leaving his whole body shaking as he opened the envelope. "…to go…"

It was more than a letter in there. Before he read Professor Myrtle's words on the mint green stationery, he could already tell this wasn't a rejection letter. A plane ticket and a few other papers were enclosed, along with a second paper that had been folded and stapled shut.

' _I need to sit down…_ ' Gingerly, he unfolded the letter and read the contents.

 **Cyrus,**

 **Your application for the one-year internship in the Kinzo Region has been accepted. You'll be helping me collect data on the migratory patterns of specific Pokémon, so I hope you're up for the challenge.**

 **I can go ahead and tell you that your skill set differs from those of your two soon-to-be colleagues. One of them is a very talented trainer who has managed to bring various Pokémon to their full potential for five consecutive years. The other one is the best tracker I've ever encountered.**

 **Your advanced technical and programming skills seem like a perfect match for the program. I'm also curious to see what you'll think about this nice new piece of technology I'm entrusting to you and your partner. No details on that until you arrive, though!**

 **Enclosed is your one-way plane ticket to the Natrium Town Airport. I have filed the required permits for you, so everything should be in order when you arrive on March 15.**

 **We'll talk soon. I'm looking forward to working with you.**

 **~Professor Myrtle**

 **P.S. One of your teachers wrote a lovely letter of recommendation. I've attached a photocopy, just in case you want to see how highly he thinks of you.**

His face still felt hot, but so did his chest. Despite that building heat, he felt at peace.

 _'At long last, I have a way out.'_

Cyrus knew this freedom was only temporary—one year at most—but maybe he could reach out to his grandfather around the time the visa ran out. Twelve months was enough time to tough it out in the wild and find his voice. When he returned to Sinnoh—assuming he did at all—he would be stronger, more assertive, and less easily pushed around. Maybe he'd even find enough of a voice to stand his ground against Alexander and Nichole.

For a moment, he considered reading the other note, but decided it would be best to save that for later…like after he informed his parents he'd be spending an entire year in a foreign country and already had a plane ticket.

Or maybe he wouldn't tell them. Maybe he'd wait until he was already in Natrium Town to leave a voicemail on the answering machine.

"I heard about what happened with Dr. Newton. I'll talk to her and the rest of the faculty. If you think you're in a position to take all the end-of-term exams before you go—"

"Bring it." And for once, a genuine smile came onto his face. "I'll take whatever you can throw at me."


	3. Sunyshore Airport

It had taken two days to drive from Celestic Town to Sunyshore City, so Cynthia and Carolina decided to turn it into one last "girls trip" before Cynthia's flight to Kinzo. They stopped to take pictures at all the historic sites, stayed in a traditional bed and breakfast, and did a little shopping for the trip.

Luckily, with it being spring, the type of clothes Cynthia needed (coats, sweaters, thermal underwear, et cetera) were all on sale and clearance. She even wanted to make a trip to the Sunyshore Gym, just to say hello to the Gym Leader and see if he remembered her.

The airport was a modern marvel. Just like every other part of the city, the airport bragged about operating wholly on solar energy. The only parts that didn't do so were, naturally, the airplanes. But in classic Sunyshore fashion, they insisted "some company is working on that, so give it a few more years."

Cynthia had flown out of this airport before, but that didn't make it any less fun to explore. Once she made it past security and waited at her gate for departure, she could do some last-minute shopping, grab a bite to eat, or simply wait around. Getting checked in and having her bags checked wasn't the hard part. The hardest part was always saying goodbye to Carolina.

"Now remember: you promised to call me once a week. If I don't hear from you, I'm going to worry."

"Yes, Grandmother."

"Take lots of pictures and bring back souvenirs for the family!"

"Yes, Grandmother."

"And if you have a chance to explore the historic sites or see any legendary Pokémon, be sure to—"

"Alright. I promise. You can let go now." Carolina had been hugging her tightly for the past two minutes, causing several airport employees to chuckle as they walked by. "I'll miss my flight if you keep this up!"

Cynthia had never seen the international line move so quickly. Then again, it was also 3:00 AM. The security staff simply scanned over her passport, checked her Pokémon and liquids, and passed her through. The man behind her was stopped for a routine random search, but he was allowed to continue, too.

Every time she'd flown out of Sunyshore City in the past, the airport was teeming with travelers. Cynthia suspected that would be the case in a few more hours, but it currently looked like a ghost town. Only one or two shops were open, with a pair of exhausted employees sitting behind the registers. Good thing she packed a couple of snacks.

Once her feet touched the conveyor, taking her closer to Gate M31, she resisted the urge to run across the platform. It always made her feel like she had learned Swift and could copy her fastest Pokémon, childish a notion as that was. Finally deciding she had nothing better to do—and Carolina wasn't there to talk her out of it—she ran…only to lose her balance and land on a tall woman in a pinstripe suit.

"My, my," she heard the woman grumble from the ground. "How graceful…"

Cynthia's entire face turned red from embarrassment. "Sorry! Are you alright?"

The woman struggled for a few seconds, but managed to stand upright before the conveyor ended. Her aviator glasses were askew and her eggplant purple bun was now slightly askew. Once she stood, Cynthia could notice a silvery-white mallen streak neatly pinned to the left.

"I'm fine." The woman straightened herself up, though it would take more than a few seconds to do so. "I just wasn't expecting that much action at three in the morning. Was somebody chasing you?"

"No. I guess I had a little too much caffeine before coming here. Running seemed like a good idea." It wasn't.

The woman took a deep breath and kept going, dragging a metallic mauve suitcase behind her. "What's your gate?"

"M31."

"Natrium Town, Kinzo?"

"You, too? What a small world. I flew out here for a family reunion, but I'm more than ready to head home." She held out her hand to shake. "I'm Titania."

"Like the Queen of the Fairies?" Cynthia couldn't help but think that was a cute name.

"Ah; a fellow literary buff! My parents were Shakespeare nerds. I even have a kid brother named Oberon, if you can believe that. Though, considering how poorly he performed in school, some of us called him _Bottom_ behind his back."

Cynthia found that a tad mean-spirited, but still a little funny. "I'm Cynthia. It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Titania. Does your family live in Sunyshore City, or…?"

"Floaroma Town, actually. What about you?"

"Celestic Town. My grandmother's the historian in charge of studying the ruins."

"Oh, you're _that_ Cynthia!" Titania shook her hand a bit more firmly. "I've actually heard of you! You're one of the most talented trainers in Sinnoh. I don't know why I was expecting you to be a little older, but—"

"No, ma'am. I'm only fifteen."

Titania laughed a bit. "Well, I'm a little more than twice that and I'm jealous. And please stop calling me _ma'am_. You're making me feel old. Congratulations on defeating the Champion, by the way. He's a company shareholder, so that's how I found out about you."

"Where do you work?"

"It's a small software start-up—at least, we're small by Sinnoh standards. I opened shop in Kinzo because it gave me a chance to feel like a Gyarados in a Magikarp pond. There's less competition, so smaller businesses have more of a fighting chance."

…

Having somebody to talk to at the gate made the time pass by a lot faster. Some other passengers pulled blankets out of their carry-ons and tried to get a few minutes' worth of sleep in the uncomfortable seats, but to no avail. When one of the coffee stands opened at 5:30, Titania bought breakfast for Cynthia and herself, just so their chat could continue a bit longer.

"You couldn't have picked a more interesting time to visit," Titania insisted. "I was around your age when Kinzo became an independent nation. Did you know Sinnoh once used it as a penal colony? They'd dump the debtors, murderers, religious fanatics, and other social undesirables out there. It's been…really, _really_ interesting to see how their descendants choose to run their new government.

"It's a bit of an uncanny valley effect. You see things that are familiar and make you think of home, but it isn't a perfect match. Kinzo is culturally more like Sinnoh than any other region—spending almost five hundred years as a colony tends to do that—but they're going out of their way to find their own voice. They just can't agree on what that voice should say."

"Kind of like a teenage girl rebelling against her mother?" Cynthia quipped. Titania laughed a bit and took another sip of her café au lait. "Is there anything I should be wary of while I'm out there? I'll be in Kinzo for a full year, gathering research for Professor Myrtle."

Titania smirked at the girl and continued to stir the contents of her drink together. "They play an orientation video every six hours on the flight. When it comes on, just be sure to pay attention to it. If you follow the guidelines, you'll not only be fine; you'll have the time of your life."

"Gate M31 is now boarding first class passengers, veterans, families with small children, and passengers with disabilities," the intercom called out. "Everyone, please have your pass ready and on hand. Thank you again for choosing to fly with Altaria Airlines!"

"Are you riding first class, Cynthia?"

"No. I'm business class. I think they'll call me next." Cynthia could already see other people standing in line with passes ready. "It was really nice to meet you, M—" She caught herself before she did it again. "Titania. Have a happy flight."

"Likewise. Here." Titania held out a charcoal gray business card with a very stylized, angular bronze "W" on it. "If your research takes you to anywhere near Cuprum City, give me a call. I'll be happy to give you and your friends a tour. It's a fun little town."

Titania almost didn't make it to the first class boarding call. She rushed to the gate with her pass in one hand and the handle of her suitcase in the other. Clutched between her torso and her arm was the coffee cup, still half full.

Cynthia half kept expecting her to spill it.


	4. Flight to Kinzo

Cynthia was pleased to discover she had a corner aisle seat. That would make it easier to get up and down to use the lavatory, as well as grab her carry-on bag as needed. While boarding, she kept her fingers crossed and privately prayed she wouldn't have a mid-section seat. This fortunately meant the only person she'd have to worry about this entire flight would be the passenger sitting in the window seat beside her.

As she made her way past first class, she spotted Titania and waved at her. The purple-haired woman smiled back and then returned her attention to a book called _The Crimson Cloyster_. Judging from the cover art, Cynthia strongly suspected it was a trashy romance novel. She'd always heard her grandmother call those things "bodice rippers," which tickled Cynthia's funny bone. It took every ounce of willpower to contain her giggles.

Much to her relief, there was enough room to place her carry-on beneath the seat ahead of her. It meant she could keep her Pokémon at her feet rather than having to worry about the airport security team mixing up her luggage. That happened on the Unova trip, and Gible was far from happy.

More people scrambled to their seats; checking their tickets to figure out where they were supposed to go. Since it was only a matter of time before her aisle-mate made it to Seat 6F, Cynthia remained standing. Why sit down when she'd simply have to get up again?

"This is the final boarding call for Flight S17-8395 at Gate M31: Sunyshore City, Sinnoh to Natrium Town, Kinzo. Now boarding all passengers…"

' _Is it a ghost seat?_ ' Cynthia wondered. ' _Or did something happen to—_ '

One last passenger stepped onto the plane: a blue-haired boy around her age wearing a slate gray suit with a dark blue button-up shirt. Even though it was pitch black outside, he was also sporting a pair of sunglasses. ' _Is he blind?'_ It was rude to ask such things, but—oh! He was going to sit next to her!

Up close, he looked really thin, especially in the face. "Seat 6F?" Cynthia asked him. "Here. I'll get out of your way."

"Thanks." He wasted no time in putting his bag away, only to pull out a pair of headphones and a mythology book.

From a young age, Cynthia's family encouraged her to be friendly and social, especially around people her own age. "Are you challenging the Kinzo Pokémon League?" It was one of the best possible guesses she could make.

"Not quite," the boy replied. "I'm interning for a Pokémon Studies professor in Natrium Town."

"You too!?" The mystery was now over…sort of. At least she had a face to the other assistant! "I'm Cynthia from Celestic Town. If you're working for Professor Myrtle, we'll be working together!" She held out a hand to shake, which the boy hesitantly accepted. "It's nice to meet you. What's your name? Where are you from? What are you hoping to accomplish with the internship?"

"Are you _interviewing_ me?" He raised one eyebrow at her, not that Cynthia could really tell. They were so thin that they seemed almost nonexistent. "I'm Cyrus, and I'm actually from Sunyshore. I… _might_ challenge the League. Maybe..."

"Well, Cyrus, it's a pleasure. Is this your first time traveling to another region?"

"Yes."

"You certainly picked an interesting region to start with! While we were waiting to board, I talked with a lady who works in Cuprum City. She mentioned—"

"Cynthia, was it?" She nodded her head. "We'll be seeing a lot of each other over the course of this next year. I'm sure I'll have ample time to get to know you. Right now—and I hope you won't find this rude—I'd rather just sleep."

"…oh. Yeah, okay. Suit yourself…"

She decided to make herself comfortable, but also to be a tad nosy. Since Cyrus's eyes were closed, he wouldn't notice if Cynthia peeped a bit. Around takeoff, his dark glasses slipped further down the bridge of his nose.

He had a black left eye; along with a large, nasty bruise on his cheek.

…

At first, Cynthia convinced herself she'd stay awake so she'd be ready to sleep when the plane landed. That was the best way to combat jet lag. Each time the stewardesses walked by, she requested a cup of hot tea. White, black, green: it didn't matter, so long as it was caffeinated and kept her awake.

…but it wasn't enough. Halfway through reading _A Brief_ _History of the Kinzo Region_ , her head began to feel heavy. She bobbed forward, then abruptly pulled herself back up again. Her vision started to blur and her yawns became progressively more frequent. Eventually, her gray eyes shut.

It felt like she'd closed them for only a couple of minutes. When she opened them again and checked the time, she realized she'd been out for three hours. She'd also leaned so far to her right that she'd snuggled up to Cyrus's shoulder. Immediately, she sat upright and felt her face turn hot from embarrassment. "Sorry about that! I didn't—"

"It's fine," he murmured, though he sounded a tad annoyed.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?"

"Not with the kid behind me kicking my seat, no." His eyes went toward Cynthia's book. "Is it interesting?"

She smiled a bit, offering to let Cyrus have a look. "It's depressing, but fascinating. Everything's in here, from notes about the monarchy our ancestors overthrew to the Wolfram Town Incident."

"You mean the nuclear power plant that blew up on the northern side? I wonder how the Pokémon reacted to the radiation…" And he only said that because he already knew what radiation poisoning did to people. He'd written a paper on it for a medical science course last term. "May I?"

"Hm? Sure! I don't mind." Cynthia wasn't sure if it was her imagination or not, but Cyrus seemed a little more at ease than he'd been when they first made introductions. "You might find Chapter 8 interesting. It's on the old Kinzo religion and how they used to worship Articuno as a god. I saw you reading a mythology book earlier, so…"

"Can I get you two anything?" a male attendant asked, coming by with a snack cart. "Pretzels, peanuts? Do you have any food allergies we need to be made aware of?"

Both shook their heads. "I think we're good," Cynthia piped up.

"If that's the case, then please plug in your headphones and pay attention to the monitor in front of you. We're about to go over the Kinzo Code of Conduct."

Both teens reached for their headphones and watched as the monitors in front of them flipped on. A friendly-looking man with inky black hair and a full beard stood in front of a light blue background. "Hello, visitors and returning comrades of the Kinzo region. My name is Jet, and I'm the Gym Leader of Kalium City. If you plan to compete in the Kinzo League challenge, I will be the second gym on your journey, but that's enough about me. Let's talk about what you can expect in Kinzo, and the rules we wish for you to follow."

The screen showed an aerial view of a cold, mountainous terrain with stark, Soviet-era architecture in most of the towns. A crystalline blue lake sparkled next to icy hills. A nocturnal view of the capital city sparkled and twinkled like jewels on black velvet. Winds howled as snow flew across the sky, only to clear out and show a remarkable aurora borealis.

"Kinzo is a land without limits," Jet went on to say. "Or rather, I should say, few limits. You can't exactly kill anyone in cold blood and expect to get away with it."

Somebody in the back of the plane let loose a nervous, wry chuckle at that. Cynthia rolled her eyes. Cyrus actively chose to ignore that comment, finding it more morbid than humorous.

"Firstly, everyone in the region is given a Metro Pass. The Metro runs across all active towns and cities…except for certain off-limits areas. The Intra-Metro stations run every ten minutes. The Inter-Metro stations run every hour. If you miss your train, there is no need to worry. Another one will come to whisk you away momentarily."

As these words were spoken, the attendants came by to provide each passenger with a Metro Pass: a slick black piece of plastic the of a credit card.

"If you lose your Metro Pass, notify the local police. They will deactivate your old pass and provide you with a new one. And there's no need to worry about posing for a photo ID. Your Metro Pass photo is the same as your passport photo."

Cynthia groaned. Her passport was three years old. In that picture, she was an awkward, nerdy-looking thing with colored braces and a gangly physique she'd since grown into.

"Secondly, our terrain is so dangerous and unpredictable that only trainers with four or more Kinzo League badges are permitted to wander off the beaten path and venture into the wilderness. Exploring the great outdoors without a more experienced trainer—or, at the very least, a Fire Pokémon—is strongly discouraged. If you need to travel to another town or city, please use the Metro whenever possible. It's for your own safety."

"Remind me to acquire a Fire Pokémon as soon as humanly possible," Cynthia whispered to Cyrus, who nodded his head once firmly in agreement. "This is ridiculous. If we're confined to the settlements, we'll only be able to collect skewed data."

"I agree with you," he whispered back. "But we'll be fine. I have a Houndour."

"Thirdly, there is a country-wide curfew. As soon as the sun sets, proceed to go indoors. Staying out beyond sunset requires special government authorization. If you see any suspicious nocturnal activity in your town or city, you are encouraged to report it. If you're visiting us, you're welcome to stay in a hotel, with a local friend, or in one of the provided Trainers Lodges. Pokémon trainers participating in the Kinzo League challenge may stay in Lodges free of charge."

At least that answered the room and board question. Problem solved.

"Fourthly, any Pokémon you are bringing into Kinzo from another region must be quarantined for two months."

Cyrus visibly tensed up. Cynthia didn't like this, either; but she'd personally called Professor Myrtle prior to packing. This had come up in conversation, so she wasn't as surprised.

"It's perfectly safe to leave your Pokémon at one of the centers or even store them in the PC. You'll receive a notification when it's safe for you to collect your Pokémon. There's one last thing to note…"

Jet took a deep breath and stared directly at the audience. "Only battles within city limits and the Metro system are fought by Pokémon League standard rules. In other words, the battle ends once all of a challenger's Pokémon have fainted. People living in the more rural areas do not always adhere to those rules, so please exercise caution."

There were a couple of other rules, but they were basic protocol for any region: use the Pokémon Centers to heal your Pokémon, don't steal from other trainers, don't engage in illegal death matches, et cetera. Unova and Sinnoh had the same policies. She could tune that out.

…

After what felt like forever in the air, the plane landed and docked at its designated gate in Natrium Town. Cynthia wasn't sure what to expect, aside from thinking Kinzo would be more colorful than what she saw outside. Jet's orientation video displayed a dramatic winter wonderland: a world full of beauty and adventure. All she saw from Cyrus's window seat was cold, cold, _cold_.

Most of the grass was a faded color: more yellow than green and completely coated in frost. There were no wild Pokémon to be seen anywhere, but maybe she wasn't looking hard enough. The buildings were sturdy, but more industrial and efficient than historic. Very few had any personality to them.

Most of the passengers rushed to get off the plane. Cyrus remained seated, patiently waiting until everyone else passed him before he even considered reaching for his carry-on. Since he was slightly taller than his new colleague, he asked which bag was Cynthia's and handed it to her.

"Thank you for flying with us!" the staff chirped happily. It sounded canned.

As soon as Cynthia stepped off the plane, she heard one stewardess murmur to the other, "Can we shut the door now? Thank Arceus. I'm freezing my buns off."

The architecture of the Natrium Town Airport looked every bit as stark and unfriendly as the terrain: slate gray concrete with only a tiny bit of neon to add color to the dismal monochrome. The employees wore matching charcoal gray coats with thick black fur on the collar and tips of the sleeves. Many of the men had beards and a lot of the women bundled up further with thick plush scarves.

 **Welcome to Kinzo** , a sign told them. **Our Golden Land of Industry and Opportunity!**

Cynthia couldn't stop shivering and noted Cyrus appeared to be cold, too. "That does it," she grumbled, surprised she could see her breath indoors. "As soon as I have my bags back, I'm pulling out my thickest coat and bundling up."

"That…" Cyrus's teeth were chattering. "That's a good idea…"

Cynthia looked around, trying to figure out which direction to go. She spotted a familiar face instead. "Titania!" she called out, waving. "Would you happen to know which baggage claim terminal we should go to?" Titania was too far away for Cynthia to hear her, but she beckoned both of the teens to follow her.

Unlike the Sunyshore airport, there were no conveyor tracks to speedily push the travelers to their next destination. Everything was polished down concrete with tempered glass ceilings looming above to show the light snowfall outside.

A large red analog clock announced the time: 16:45…4:45 PM, KST. More bright red analog letters announced Baggage Claim C would be releasing luggage from Flight S17-8395 in five minutes.

The only color in the baggage claim was the slightly pink glow of the lighting at the edges of the conveyor belt. The lights went from pink to a neon blue as luggage trickled into view.

First class luggage came down first and it only took a few seconds for Cynthia to recognize Titania's metallic mauve bag. The woman grabbed the handle as soon as it passed her. The motion was so well choreographed that Cynthia suspected she'd done this several times before.

"I guess you're heading to Cuprum City, then?" Cynthia held out her hand for one more shake.

Titania's grip was firm and almost tomboyish. The black leather covering her hand made a stretching sound with the handshake. "Business calls," she replied warmly. "Good luck out here, Cynthia. Kinzo has one of the world's toughest leagues."

"Is there anything I should look out for?" But it was too late. Titania was already rolling her bags toward the exit. A limousine waited outside for her. Cynthia stood there for a while, watching as a man got out of the car to take Titania's bags, only to feel a light tap on her own shoulder.

When she turned around, there was Cyrus. He already had his bag and gave her an impatient frown.

"Oh! The business class bags are being released…" She looked on the conveyor, waiting impatiently for her bag. It didn't show. Even when the coach class bags came out, there was still no sign of her luggage.

For a while, Cynthia paced back and forth; wondering if maybe the airline lost it or accidentally lugged it onto another flight. Finally, one last bag slid onto the conveyor. It was covered in scuff marks and something leaked out of the far left corner, but there was no mistake.

"Oh no…"

She unzipped her suitcase, only to find her shampoo and conditioner bottles leaked over everything. Not only were her hair-care products completely gone, but they'd soaked into every piece of laundry. Not even her pajamas were spared. As tempting as it was to cry or let loose a well-earned string of profanities, Cynthia did neither. She was a lady. Ladies didn't—

"I packed spares," Cyrus offered. "You can borrow something of mine tonight and do laundry tomorrow. I'll just replenish supplies in town. Let's go."

It wouldn't be the same brand, but that wasn't going to matter for a day or two. Cynthia offered the boy a sheepish smile and uttered a quick thanks. "I can buy you a coffee or something tomorrow," she offered, but he held up a hand to turn it down. His body language made it all too clear there was only one thing he wanted: to get out of the airport.

Once everything was zipped up again, the pair made it outdoors and attempted to flag a taxi. "I hope they realize we're in a hurry. The last thing we need is to break curfew on our first night here." Cynthia opened her mouth to say something, but a car horn honked instead.

"Hey! You two! You're Cynthia and Cyrus, right?"

"Who the—"

There, pulling up in a green Überwagen Ledyba, was a big, muscular redheaded woman. "I'm Campanella: Professor Myrtle's assistant. I'm also your lift to the lab. Hop in!"

Cynthia approached the car and held up her dripping bag. "Is there any chance we could get some help with the luggage?" She doubted this Campanella woman would actually do anything, but it was worth a shot.

"Ha ha ha ha… _no_. If you think I'm about to leave the sweet, sweet heat of my car, sweetheart, you're sadly mistaken."

Cyrus unceremoniously grabbed the bag and shoved it into the trunk, then proceeded to neatly place his own bags in whatever space was left. He'd do anything to get out of the cold; anything to keep moving. The sun was already starting to set.

"Are you from Johto, Campanella?" Cynthia asked. "I think I recognize your accent."

"You have quite an ear. I'm from Azalea Town!" Once everyone was good and buckled up, Campanella revved the engine. It may have looked cool in a sports car, but definitely not in a cute compact vehicle. "Listen; we can stay up all night and chat, but we better do it at the lab rather than here. Right now, Priority #1 is getting the two of you where we need to go before the sun sets."


	5. Professor Myrtle

As the Natrium Town sky darkened, the street lights turned on…but they weren't any brighter than candlelight.

"They only keep those on until an hour after sundown," Campanella explained as she kept driving. Only one hand remained on the wheel. The other one was preoccupied with a foul-smelling cigarette that stunk up the whole car. "Then they go out for good until sunrise. One of the cities out here—I think it's Stannum City—has a world-class observatory. We do all we can to reduce light pollution."

"It probably saves on the municipal power bills, too." Cyrus's attention was less on his colleagues and more directed toward outdoors.

As the snow continued to lightly fall to the earth, he was reminded of a more modern take on those Victorian-era winterscapes people printed on mass-produced holiday cards. The land looked worn out, like it was tired and ready to go to sleep. Cynthia may have found that depressing, but Cyrus saw it as comforting. _Peaceful_ , even.

 **Welcome to Historic Natrium Town!** **Population: 400**.

A large black van passed Campanella on the road. A siren and loudspeakers were rooted onto the van's roof, spinning around for full effect. "Attention, residents and visitors to Natrium Town. Attention. The sun will set at precisely 18:14 KST. If you haven't begun to head home, please do so at this time. Remember: the curfew exists to protect you, not to police you! Attention, residents…"

"Yeah, yeah," Campanella growled, putting out her cigarette in the grungy cup-holder. "I heard you the first eight dozen times, pal. We're working on it. Ugh…" Cynthia heard Cyrus make a quick huff, but she wasn't sure if it came out of a place of sarcastic amusement or annoyance.

Campanella drove deep into the countryside, following a series of dim streetlights, until she parked the Überwagen outside a large waterfront villa. It resembled an upscale log cabin, almost reminiscent of the beautiful ski resorts in Snowpoint City. No part of this surprised Cynthia. Myrtle was a Sinnoh transplant. She probably wanted her lab to look like a home away from home.

"This is the place, kids. Just to make sure we're all inside before it turns pitch black; I'll help with the luggage." The trunk was popped; everyone grabbed as many bags as they could carry, and made a quick rush up the cedarwood steps. Even from indoors, both teenagers could smell the familiar scent of firewood and smoke.

To the left of the doorbell was a large overstuffed gingham-print pet bed. Snuggled up for warmth were about a dozen Eevees of varying ages. One particularly old female had started to turn gray and curled up in the center, surrounded by her younger kin. "She breeds Eevees?" Cynthia felt her heart flutter. "They're lovely!"

"Versatile, too," Cyrus remarked. "The military used to give Eevees as part of standard issue to their combatants. The last war nearly rendered them extinct. Professor Myrtle's a conservationist, I presume?"

"Between you and me," Campanella huffed as she awkwardly handled Cynthia's leaking luggage, "she's more of an opportunist than anything else. Myrtle's… _difficult_ to deal with sometimes. You'll see for yourself in a moment." She reached for the door, opening it unceremoniously.

A rush of warm air greeted the travelers, smelling faintly of dried leaves and spices. Cyrus noted an aromatherapy candle sitting over the fireplace, completely liquefied save for a short, flickering wick. The scent was artificial: a poor attempt to mask the scent of unclean litter boxes and other pet waste.

The interior resembled a glorified lodge, complete with wood paneling, plush carpet, and a wood-burning stove. Even more Eevees sat in front of the fireplace, taking a nice long nap in the lap of luxury.

The walls were covered with framed certificates, diplomas, newspaper articles, and the occasional professional portrait. In every photograph was a middle-aged woman with half-moon glasses and navy blue hair scraped into a tight, high-rise ponytail: Professor Myrtle.

"Can I interest either one of you in a cup of chamomile or something?" Campanella offered. "Or I could take your things to your separate rooms. Maybe I can help with Q&A while we—"

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN THEY'RE THREATENING TO PULL MY GRANT!? DON'T THEY KNOW WHO I AM AND HOW IMPORTANT THIS RESEARCH IS!?"

Those outraged words were so loud that Cyrus suspected they could be heard from every room in the lab. He felt his body tense up. Maybe it was foolish on his part to think that traveling halfway across the globe would take him away from loud, hostile home environments. Life had a sick sense of humor, and he wasn't laughing.

"I'm…" Cynthia gestured toward the upstairs. No part of her wanted to touch this drama. "I think I'm going to check out my new room. Would you like me to unpack your stuff while I'm—"

"I don't care. Go ahead." It probably wasn't wise to snoop on the professor's conversation, but this could be important. If Myrtle lost the grant money, then it stood to reason that the internship could be canceled. He couldn't have that happen, not after coming this far. "Good night, Cynthia."

When Campanella offered the tea again, he took her up on the offer. It was the first time in nearly forty-eight hours he wasn't within two feet of another human being. That came as a relief.

"They're making a mistake," Myrtle continued. "They're pulling my funds before I can even present my findings. The hell's going on with the academic council? I bet it's that new president…"

"Have you considered private funding?" Cyrus didn't recognize that voice. "That's what my lab is doing. It's worth looking into."

"Sweetie, no. Your mother here's too proud to shill out her work to the corporate sector. If you take grants from private companies, they own you _and_ your research. That's just how the world works. It's—ugh. Damn it. I think my interns arrived. I'll call you back." Considering how quickly the person on the other end hung up, Cyrus suspected she was all too glad to end the call.

The videophone shut off, turning to static. Professor Myrtle's lanky body became a silhouette, save for her glasses. They almost seemed to glow when they reflected light from a nearby analog display. "Well…" she growled, stepping closer. In one hand was a half-empty wine glass. "It's about damn time. Did Campanella get you inside before sundown?"

"Yes, Professor." He briefly bowed to show respect for her position. Myrtle just stared at him, ruddy-faced and unimpressed. "She's a little older than us, isn't she?" That was an understatement. Campanella had to be at least twenty-five.

The professor gulped down another swig of the red liquid and rolled her tawny eyes. "Campanella's not here for the academics, boy. I hired her because she's the closest thing to a poacher I can legally afford. She's helping you and your partner find the good stuff. I mean, _really_. Do you think anyone with half a brain gives a where to find a Bidoof or a Starly? What would be the point in researching that?"

From the amount of alcohol Cyrus smelled on Myrtle's breath, he suspected the glass in her hand wasn't her first drink. Her ponytail was messy, with stray pieces giving her a disheveled look. Her lab coat was unbuttoned, with one sleeve threatening to slide off her left shoulder. Most tell-tale of all was the rosiness in her pale face.

She unceremoniously flopped onto a large corduroy sofa, briefly taking on the appearance of a rag doll a child grew tired of throwing around. "Cynthia's here because Professor Rowan highly recommended her. I picked Campanella because she's a professional at finding rare Pokémon."

Cyrus didn't want to get too close. Drunks had a tendency to turn belligerent. The only thing he liked about intoxicated people was how honest they were. They had a hard time keeping secrets or weaving their words into complicated lies. They were every bit as straightforward and earnest as the tired, the sleep-deprived, and the sincere…only less pleasant.

"I bet a part of you wants to ask me why I picked you. You didn't defeat the Sinnoh champion, nor did you end up on the International Police's most wanted list. You're here because of _this_." Myrtle pulled something out of her pocket roughly the size of a pager. "Catch."

He'd never been an athletic child, but he had good reflexes.

…

"It's called a PokéStat," he explained to Cynthia the following morning. "Once you catch a Pokémon, this device logs the location and uses a series of infrared and radio frequencies to track the statistical likelihood of finding more of the same species. If you set it to search for a Pokémon you've already captured, it will vibrate."

He'd programmed it to look for Eevees earlier, pleased to find that it buzzed every time one of the professor's precious pets scurried by.

Myrtle hadn't selected him for his skills as a Pokémon trainer. Last night, she'd made it all too clear she didn't care about that. He could do the Kinzo League Challenge if he wished, or simply follow along as Cynthia's shadow. Whatever he decided, it was his prerogative…provided he offered his technical assistance.

The actual data entry was up to him: running a series of statistical analyses to accurately map the migratory paths of every species on Myrtle's "wish list." Their targets were uncommon, rare, and endangered species because—in the professor's own words—nobody cared about the common species.

Cynthia was uncharacteristically quiet that morning. Ever since they'd first met on the plane, all she wanted to do was talk his ear off. She sat across from him at the breakfast nook, still wearing one of his undershirts and a pair of pajama pants he suspected she borrowed from Campanella.

"Lucky you," Campanella grumbled from her seat, poking at her eggs and bacon. "She doesn't trust me enough to give me one of those."

' _Considering what she told me about you last night, I'm not surprised._ '

"It's a fine piece of tech, though," the redhead continued. "I can only imagine how much damage a group like Team Rocket could do with something like that. I wonder how long it'll be before Silph Co. creates something similar for the overseas market."

Just to ere on the side of caution, Cyrus carefully pocketed his PokéStat in one of his jacket's internal pockets.

Cynthia was still quiet, but Cyrus noted the smile playing on her lips. She was staring at the gadget as though it were a gift from an old friend. "Wendigo Technologies made this," she whispered in his ear.

"Your friend's company?" She nodded her head. "Hm. Small world."

A scuffling noise came from the stairs, followed by the sound of muffled swears and feminine groans. Awake and hungover, Professor Myrtle approached in a daffodil yellow bathrobe and fluffy Mareep slippers. Her hair was still in curlers. "Have you three figured out a data collection plan yet?"

"I'm leaning toward challenging the Kinzo League," Cynthia admitted. "Once I've defeated four Gym Leaders and collected four badges, I can lead a party into the wilderness and take my chances. Considering I've battled my way through two regions already—"

"Did you forget the part where our Pokémon have to stay in quarantine for two months?" Cyrus interrupted her. "I doubt it's going to be easy to capture Pokémon in urban areas, let alone—"

"It's not a big deal," Myrtle blurted, pouring herself a cup of instant coffee. "I'll keep your Pokémon in the PC and check on them once a week, just to make sure they're alright. While you wait to get them back, I can loan each of you an Eevee. You'd be doing me a favor, anyway. Eevees are on the research list. You might as well plug them into the PokéStat and start searching, right?"

When she returned to the table with her mug of coffee, she released the contents of her other hand onto the table: a thick red binder. "Your other paperwork is in here," she announced. "It'll probably take me until your second city to get this finalized with the embassy, but I'm trying to get you permission to go out at night. I'm sure the best nests are far out there, way past the point of civilization…"


	6. Ready for Takeoff

_Thunk, thunk, whap! Thunk, thunk, thunk, whap!_

Even though Professor Myrtle's washing machines were industrial-grade, she'd warned Cynthia that the heavy duty setting made a lot of noise. There was even a faint plea in the professor's voice for Cynthia _not_ to use that setting because she was nursing a headache.

' _A headache. Riiiiight. It's totally not a hangover,_ ' Cynthia thought with a hint of sarcasm. ' _I saw what you put in your coffee, ma'am. You're more sauced than a marinara dish._ '

She was underwhelmed, even disappointed. Every lecture she'd heard from the Canalave University archives had been top quality research. In preparation for her role as an intern, Cynthia read every piece of published academia with Myrtle van Goud's name on it. The woman was a genius: a bright and shining star in Pokémon ethology. She'd sounded ambitious and confident in the lectures: like a real take-charge kind of lady.

' _In person, though…_ '

It seemed like Myrtle couldn't go much more than an hour or two without liquoring up. She slouched and seemed more content to boss Campanella around than run her own errands. Every time the phone rang, she sounded confrontational and combative. There was a defensive, fearful undertone to her words: like a captain too proud and emotionally attached to her boat to admit it was sinking.

' _Maybe I'm being unfair._ _She's under a lot of pressure. Cyrus said it sounded like she was in danger of losing a grant. Was it our grant?_ '

Fortunately, Cynthia was a resourceful young lady. If it turned out Myrtle indeed lost any continued funding for the project and the research ran over, Cynthia could still help the professor pro bono and support herself through Pokémon battle prize money. If Cyrus decided to partner up with her rather than work independently, he could probably do the same. She'd encourage him to do that, anyway.

He passed Cynthia in the hall, his blue eyes completely focused on his PokéStat. Cynthia thought about thanking him for letting her borrow a shirt to sleep in, but decided against it. By now, she'd been in close proximity to him for over 48 hours. That was enough time to know when he was concentrating and didn't want to be interrupted…but he surprised her.

"Cynthia?"

"Hello." She wiggled her fingers in a light greeting. He stepped in, taking a seat a couple of feet away. "I threw your shirt in there. I'll fold it and get it back to you in about an hour."

"I'd like to borrow your PokéStat."

"Sure. It's in my room, on top of the—"

"You shouldn't leave it out." He took a deep breath and leaned in, ready to whisper something in her ear. "Keep it on your person at all times. It's too valuable to fall into the wrong hands."

"And that could happen _here_?" That sounded a tad too paranoid for her tastes.

 _Bzzzzzzzzzzzt_ , _ding_!

Cynthia got up, feeling the cold air rush to her bare feet. For the past hour, she'd sat in here because the laundry room was the warmest room in the house. Myrtle let her borrow a big plush bathrobe to keep warm, but it didn't cover her feet. "I'll be more careful with it in the future," she promised. "I wanted to run something by you."

"Hm?"

"I really do think the best way we can capture data is by challenging the Kinzo League. I don't know what your plans are, but we're limited to towns, cities, and the Metro unless one of us acquires four badges. If you don't want to do that, I'm fine with leading the party."

Cyrus took a moment to think it over, but not too long. "Alright. I'll do the league challenge. If we both collect badges, we can eventually split up and cover more terrain. Though for the first two months, we'll be fighting with a handicap." An Eevee made a few noises in the hall, chasing its big fluffy tail. "A rather _large_ handicap…"

"Did you take the challenge in Sinnoh, Cyrus?"

"I didn't complete it," he admitted. "I attempted it over one summer and only managed to get my first badge. I came home in time for the new school year, hoping nobody noticed." But they did. He didn't want to get into that today. "Pokémon were never my top priority, and I eventually lost interest. My father said only entitled brats could expect their parents to support them while they aimlessly backpack across the region."

Cynthia frowned, both arms full of damp laundry. "Well…" She chucked the clothes into the drier and slammed it shut. "I guess that makes _me_ a brat."

"I never said I agreed with him. I'm willing to give this a try. So long as the research remains our top priority and the challenge isn't too big of a distraction, I'm on board."

"I have to warn you, Cyrus; it's against my nature to quit something halfway. If you want to stop after four badges, you can. It's all you'll need to visit the uninhabited areas…but I'm going to collect all eight."

Cyrus was already imagining how the conversation would go when he returned home. Although halting the challenge after four badges to invest all his time to the research would provide Professor Myrtle with several more work hours' worth of data, his parents would see it as one more thing he half-assed: another partial completion.

"I'm going in town with Campanella to buy supplies. Did you need anything?"

The blonde shrugged her shoulders and held up her coffee mug. "I think I'm all set. I guess we're riding the Metro this afternoon?"

"That's the plan. Make sure everything's packed and be ready to head out by 14:00."

' _2:00 in the afternoon. Got it._ ' As she watched Cyrus leave the laundry room, Cynthia made note that he was going upstairs rather than out the door…probably to rescue her PokéStat from hungry, prying eyes.

…

 _Thump._

The Eevee Professor Myrtle loaned him kept butting its head against his right knee, demanding to be petted. Considering Cyrus's hands were trapped inside a pair of insulated mittens, he couldn't feel the creature's fur, but suspected it was rather soft.

The little fox Pokémon made a happy noise, cooing and swishing his tail back and forth in satisfaction. When Cyrus stroked behind the Eevee's left ear, it proceeded to nuzzle up more aggressively than before.

"D'awwww. I think he likes you."

There were plenty of things about Campanella that made Cyrus uncomfortable, but her voice was high on that list. The way she spoke made it difficult to determine whether she was being sincere or sarcastic. Right now, he suspected she was being sincere, perhaps with a hint of jealousy. After all, Myrtle only offered a Pokémon and PokéStat to her teenage assistants. Campanella didn't get either.

"Not that it's really gonna matter that much," the redhead continued, "seeing as you'll be giving it back in two months."

He'd been thinking the same thing, but—

"They're each at Level 5. Rare as that Pokémon is, all he knows are Growl, Tackle, Tail Whip, and Sand Attack." Campanella leaned against a Metro sign so she could to whip out her lighter and start another cigarette. She couldn't smoke on the subway, so she might as well smoke now. "You and Cynthia both are better off waiting until you get your Pokémon back to challenge the Gym Leaders."

She blew long, silvery strings of smoke into the cold air, watching as it fused with the fog of her breath. "Most of 'em are crooked. What they do ain't exactly _illegal_ , but…heh. Cynthia seems hell-bent on doin' this, so I'll let her figure it out on her own. Those gyms are no place for an Eevee."

Cyrus checked his watch. If they returned to the lab to pick up Cynthia, they could get her in the car in about 15 minutes. If he allotted another 20 minutes for Campanella to drive to the Metro, then they would only have to wait 10 minutes for the next Inter-Metro train to Plumbum City. "Do we have everything?"

"Unless you wanted to window shop for something in particular, kid; I think so."

"Then let's grab Cynthia and go."

…

Much to Cynthia and Cyrus's surprise, Professor Myrtle wanted to accompany them to the Metro. "This way, I can drive Campanella's car back to the lab instead of paying for long term parking!"

Campanella made an involuntary whine from the back of her throat, but years of chain-smoking left it sounding more like a wheeze rather than a protest.

Myrtle's last gift to her assistants was a matching set of pocket-sized travel guides called _Let's Explore Kinzo_. The first few pages were high level maps of the region, showing where each settlement was located as well as the schedule for the Inter-Metro. Next were city-specific maps, with places of interest clearly marked. Pokémon Centers, gyms, hotels, Trainers Lodges, Intra-Metro stations…

After the maps came information about each town: a brief history as well as notes on important residents.

"It looks like the first Gym Leader specializes in Psychic Pokémon," Cynthia remarked. "I really wish I had my Gible for this…"

Cyrus wished he had his Houndour or Murkrow for the same reason, but there was no point in wishing for something he couldn't have until mid-May. Either they could wait two months to challenge Simon of Plumbum City, or they could take their chances with the Eevees. "Are people allowed to battle on the Metro?"

Myrtle gave him a quizzical look. "You're planning to put my poor Eevee through the wringer, aren't you? Yes, boy. You can battle at the station. Once you're on the train, however, those kinds of altercations are only allowed on the Battle Car. It's the only red car, so it should be easy for you to find, but I do have to caution you.

"The Metro stations always have a Pokémon Center, but they obviously can't have them on the trains. Some of the passengers are out-of-towners who don't play by the same rules. They're _supposed_ to, but some of them don't."

Cynthia put her book into the front pocket of her backpack and shut her eyes. "We understand, Professor Myrtle. The Battle Car is too risky." The orientation video warned travelers that some of the rural residents engaged in to-the-death Pokémon battles. "I wouldn't just be risking my integrity as a trainer, but also your Eevee's life _._ " It wasn't even like she'd be making that judgment call for her own Pokémon. Eevee was on loan. "I'm not that kind of trainer, and I don't think Cyrus is, either. Your Eevees will be perfectly safe with us."

Campanella parked the car, but didn't turn it off. "Well, here we are: the Natrium Town Inter-Metro station." She stepped out, grabbing her only luggage: a beaten-up brown leather suitcase covered in different regional stamps. "I'm leaving my car in your perfectly capable and hopefully sober hands, Myrtle. Don't crash it."

"Ha ha, Campanella. You're not funny." Myrtle slid her lanky body out of the shotgun seat, only to sit back down in the driver's seat. Before she buckled up, she turned the radio to a rock station and put the plug back over the cigarette lighter. "I'd be doing you a favor if I crashed this hunk of junk."

"Don't you dare! Do you have any idea how hard it was to get a car after—"

"Relax, would you? If I accidentally ruin your precious tin can, I'll buy you another one with my alimony." The door slammed shut, a guitar solo blasted at full volume, and Myrtle gunned the Überwagen back to her laboratory.


	7. Natrium Town to Plumbum City

As peaceful and sleepy as Natrium Town appeared on the surface, its metro station was anything but. When the station was first built, the walls were covered in in slick white tile, like the scales of a Dragon Pokémon. Almost immediately, people took permanent markers and paint to the tile, leaving all kinds of graffiti behind. Almost three decades of vandalism were on those walls, only ever cleaned with the occasional disinfectant.

 **INTERTRAIN C – NATRIUM TOWN/PLUMBUM CITY, ARRIVAL: 10 MINUTES**

' _Right on time,'_ Cyrus thought, faintly smirking.

As the trio descended the stairs, a large television screen flickered on. A familiar man—the same one from the orientation video—smiled happily with the Kinzo flag behind him. "Welcome to the Kinzo Inter-Metro," he announced merrily. "Please keep an eye on your belongings at all times. If you see any unattended luggage, please report it to Metro Security immediately. Have your Metro Pass ready before you arrive at the turnpike. If you lose your Metro Pass…"

"Have you been to Plumbum City before, Campanella?" Cynthia wanted a little conversation before they made it to their station. "Is there anything worth visiting out there?"

"I've been all over Kinzo," Campanella huffed. She already sounded like she was out of breath. "Plumbum's not my kind of scene. Wait until we reach Aurum City. Aurum's an experience."

"I guess the Kinzo Pokémon League wanted to save the best for last. That's where the eighth Gym Leader lives." Cynthia felt a little disappointed. "There's really nothing worth noting about Plumbum City, then? It's just another city?"

"Not…hn…quite. There's plenty to do, but I can't stand the people." Campanella rushed ahead, pushing her way past other people on her way to their destination. Cynthia wasn't sure what the rush was. They'd all be waiting around for the train together anyway.

…

Apparently, Campanella's rush was to the ladies room. Cynthia didn't have to go, so she offered to stay behind and watch her colleague's suitcase. It leaned slightly onto her rolling bag. Once she and Cyrus found a bench to sit on, she pulled out her travel guide and flipped to the section about Plumbum City.

"Maybe we should find out how far the station is from the Trainers Lodge," she suggested, "just in case we run into any delays." Although Professor Myrtle insisted she'd do her best to expedite nocturnal excursion permits with the Kinzo government; that could take a while.

"You didn't read the part about the Metro yet, did you? They haven't experienced a delay in nine years."

"You're kidding. That long?! That's impressive!"

The tunnels looked a bit run down and overused, but Cynthia caught a glimpse of a train when Train B whizzed by. It appeared to be brand new: a vision of pristine, perfect, uninterrupted locomotion. By the time she turned her attention back to her book, she noted Cyrus had pulled his out, too.

"I found the Lodge," she remarked. "It looks like it's close to a lot of restaurants, most of which have takeout and delivery options." If they ended up spending a long period of time in Plumbum City, that could come in handy. "If we get there with a couple of hours to spare, maybe we can have dinner together."

It was around that time that Campanella returned with a canned drink in her hands. Judging from how much steam came from the can; Cynthia could only guess how hot it was. "I heard _dinner_." She beamed, leaning a bit closer to Cynthia. "You're buying?"

"Um—"

"I'm kidding, of course! I know you kids ain't made of money!" The redhead took a big gulp from the can and sighed. "I'll give Plumbum City this much; they have a nice selection of chain restaurants. I reckon that's kind of a prerequisite for being a successful tourist trap."

"I haven't seen some of these chains since I was a little girl!" Cynthia felt a wave of nostalgia hit her. She just had to check and—yes! One of them had a specialty dessert (the Baked Froslass) that had nothing to do with the Pokémon. It was ice cream shoved inside of meringue, which was then baked to a crisp. The meringue kept the ice cream cold in the center and could be styled in all sorts of amazing patterns. "What about you, Cyrus? See anything of interest?"

"We obviously don't have time to do this today, but the Ædranos Ruins are on the outskirts. Check out Page 12."

Cynthia flipped her travel guide to Page 12. "You had me at _ruins._ " Still, she wanted to read about them.

 **Ædranos was a precolonial port town on the outskirts of Mt. Solarian. The locals believed a god lived inside the volcano and occasionally took the shape of a fire-covered bird to spy on them. If the bird was angered by what it saw, Mt. Solarian would unleash a portal to the fire world and purge the town of all wrongdoers. Historians now suspect this bird was the legendary Pokémon Moltres.**

 **In 28 CE, Mt. Solarian erupted without warning. Ædranos and its adjacent towns were covered in several meters of searing-hot ash. There were no survivors.**

 **For centuries, Kinzo historians believed that Ædranos was little more than a myth, but the city was rediscovered and excavated in the 1800s. Among the beautifully preserved ruins were also the victims of the natural disaster: petrified forever within the ash.**

 **While some of the buildings have since collapsed, some (most notably the bath house, forum, and coliseum) are intact and welcome for visitors to explore prior to national curfew hours.**

Cyrus noted the twinkle in his traveling companion's eyes, as well as the way her smile grew wider with each paragraph. This was a safe choice: one they could both agree on.

"I've been there," Campanella grumbled. "It's chock full of tourists an' covered in graffiti. In case y'ain't noticed," she gestured upward in all directions, making grandiose motions. "Kinzo has a vandalism problem."

"I'm surprised the government hasn't declared the Ædranos Ruins a national landmark."

"They've got more important things to deal with. The government can't focus on preserving the past until they sort out the present. You guys can visit, if you want. It's really only worth it if you pay for a private tour."

"Then we'll do that," Cynthia decided. "Once I beat the Plumbum City Gym Leader, I'll have a little prize money. It should be more than enough!" But she didn't appreciate the way Campanella started chuckling.

Train C zipped into the station at rapid speed, halting precisely where it was meant to. The doors opened and the worn-down Natrium Station was filled with a proud, march-like song.

"Thank you again for choosing to ride the Inter-Metro," Jet's voice merrily announced over the intercom. "Train C, Natrium Town to Plumbum City, will now begin boarding. You have 90 seconds to locate a seat. Please be sure to offer priority seating to the elderly, small children, expecting mothers, and people with disabilities."

The party wasted no time finding seats. Cynthia took a seat across the row from her partners, only one row behind the priority seats. As more passengers boarded, she decided to visually study them. She recognized a few people from the airport, which briefly left her wondering if—

' _I'm being ridiculous. There's no way she'd be on public transit. I saw her get into a limousine…_ '

She was about ready to open her travel guide again when the doors shut. A couple of people scrambled to find seats, including a little girl who couldn't have been much more than seven years old. "Over here," Cynthia offered. "I can let you have the window seat."

"Thanks, lady!" the girl piped up. Her face was covered in freckles, especially at the bridge of her nose and on her plump cheeks. Big blue eyes stared up at Cynthia from beneath clear blue plastic frames. "Folks're supposed to give the good seats to little kids an' old people, but they never do."

In fact, Cynthia could see a pair of perfectly able-bodied teens claim those seats for themselves, just so they could sit together. A slightly overweight girl with bleached blonde hair chatted excitedly to a handsome curly-haired boy, showing him the contents of a sparkly purple pocket notebook. Their outfits were nearly identical: dark brown combat boots and gloves, khaki cargo pants, brown leather moto jackets with fleece collars, and coffee-brown turtlenecks.

"My nana sometimes brings her cane along for Metro rides," the kid continued, "just so she can whack people to get that seating."

"That sounds like something _my_ grandmother would do!" Cynthia chuckled and held out a hand so she could properly shake with her seatmate. "My name is Cynthia. I came all the way from Sinnoh for business. How about you? If you're riding this train all by yourself, you must be a really resourceful little girl."

"Not really," the girl admitted. "Mama an' Papa work a lot, so I don't see much of 'em. An' everyone's got a Metro Pass, y'know? Like…I can use it, make day trips to other cities, and do stuff." It was then she realized she never introduced herself. "I'm Ana, an' this is my Cleffa: Princess Sparklebutt."

Cynthia was surprised when Ana let her—a total stranger!—hold the ball. It already had a few scratches and dents in it, but she noted it was a homemade apricorn ball. "That's quite a name. I'd probably name a Cleffa something like that, too." She wouldn't. She didn't name her Pokémon. "How long have you had her?" Unless the Princess was a boy. Then she was sure Ana would correct her.

"Papa caught 'er for my fifth birthday. He was on a business trip somewhere in Kanto an' 'e saw pink Pokémon everywhere." Judging from the color of Ana's overalls and how her sneakers were covered in sparkly pink rhinestones, it didn't take a genius to figure out she loved pink. "So 'e caught me one. I'm glad 'e did 'cause she's my best friend. Do you have any Pokémon, Miss Cynthia?"

It was weird to have somebody outside of a formal setting call her _Miss_ , but she was pretty sure little kids called every girl older than thirteen _Miss_ by default. "They're in quarantine, but yes. I have a full Pokémon lineup waiting for me. We've even completed league challenges together in other regions."

"Whoa! No way!"

"Hey, brat?" the black-haired boy occupying the priority seating gruffed. "This is a quiet car. You need to shut the fuck up."

" _You_ shut up!" Ana snapped back, blowing a raspberry.

The guy stood up, dragging his rolling suitcase behind him. In his other hand was a Poké Ball. "You want to repeat that, you little bitch? Hm? Nobody talks to me like—"

"You're talking more than she did," the dumpy blonde growled, grabbing her friend by the arm. "Sit your ass back down or you'll get us both in trouble." The guy made a motion like he planned to move closer to Cynthia and Ana's seats, but the girl forced him to sit back down.

"Goddamn kids," Cynthia heard him growl. "Just gotta pop 'em in the mouth once. They'll stop giving you lip after that…"

…

By the limited amount of turbulence the train provided, Cyrus suspected at least part of the Kinzo Metro operated via magnetic levitation. ' _Impressive._ ' His Physics teacher would find this fascinating, though he had to wonder how long the Metro was in operation. The travel guide didn't say. It simply prided itself for being on time and accident-free for nine consecutive years.

At a low volume, an orchestral piece played through the train's speakers. It sounded neoclassical: like a turn-of-the-century parade march. He closed his eyes, thinking it would be best to concentrate on the music rather than the other passengers. A few seconds after he took his seat, he felt the presence of another human being beside him.

Curiosity got the better of him, so he opened one eye to discover it wasn't Cynthia next to him, but Campanella. The stench of cigarette smoke should have been a dead giveaway. "Don't mind me," the redhead insisted, but her eyes were drawn toward his jacket pockets. "I just figured you'd rather sit next to a devil you know versus one you don't."

Maybe rest wasn't such a wise idea.

Cynthia was preoccupied, talking to the little girl sitting beside her. It wasn't hard to overhear their conversation. The girl, Ana, was quite loud. Cyrus was fairly certain the entire train now knew Ana was traveling alone, her parents worked long hours, and nobody was supervising her: all of which were dangerous things for a child to advertise.

At least Cynthia had no trouble making friends with total strangers: something Cyrus had always struggled with. He could fake a smile, shake hands, and be every bit as professional as a businessman; but he'd given up on his Sunyshore peers ages ago. People were either going to like him, or they weren't. At least his classmates were too nice to bully him. Being ignored wasn't so bad by comparison.

' _So far, this expedition has felt less like work and more like a glorified field trip, complete with an insufferable chaperone._ '

The sooner he and Cynthia gained permission to travel the terrain, the sooner they could ditch Campanella. Ideally, they'd get to a point where Campanella called for ten minutes every day or so, just to report if she found anything of interest. The less time he had to spend with her, the better.

' _Tomorrow morning, as soon as curfew breaks, I'll take a walk around the city to see what we're dealing with._ ' Not just people, but Pokémon too. Even though the wild terrain was off limits for the time being, many cities—including his own—had wild Pokémon lurking around. When Cynthia talked a bit about her Unova adventure, she'd casually mentioned that even the garbage could turn sentient and walk around.

' _If I find anything, I need to go into capture mode. If I fight with just the Eevee, I'll be at a disadvantage.'_

He didn't know if Professor Myrtle would let him evolve Eevee into something more useful. That would have to be discussed over a phone call, but only after Cyrus figured out which evolution would give Eevee the greatest advantage. There was no point in confronting his new boss unless he went to her with a clear plan and could rationalize his choice.

His eyes kept going back to the travel guide, reviewing the Ædranos Ruins section. As fascinating as the mythology and history of the ruins would probably be—and he was looking forward to learning more about that on the tour—he had an ulterior motive for encouraging the private tour.

' _Ghost Pokémon tend to congregate in ruins and abandoned buildings. If they're anywhere in the city, they'll be there._ ' And they would be less likely to appear in front of a large group of people. ' _The only problem is Eevee's moves are useless against Ghosts. I'll have to catch something else first. Anything…_ '

…

"Train C, Natrium Town to Plumbum City, has successfully arrived at its destination. You have 90 seconds to disembark before new passengers board the train. If you plan to ride the train to our next destination, Kalium City, please remain in your seats. Again, thank you for choosing to ride the Kinzo Inter-Metro. We hope to serve you again soon."

The doors rushed open. Ana made a _whoosh_ sound with her mouth and scampered off in a hurry, acting as though the doors would shut at any moment. The weird couple in the matching outfits also got off, but split up and left in opposite directions.

Cynthia did one last double-check to make sure nothing slipped out of her bag or went missing. It was fortunate that she did, considering the little girl accidentally forgot to grab her Poké Ball. "Ana, wait! You almost forgot the Princess!"

"You're awesome!" the kid insisted, giving Cynthia a big grateful hug around the waist. The blonde couldn't help but smile, glad the little girl wasn't separated from her Cleffa forever.

"Train C, Plumbum City to Kalium City, will now begin boarding. You have 90 seconds to locate a seat…"

Cyrus had to push his way past the passengers trying to get onto the train, if only because Campanella took forever to move. He could smell traces of some girl's cheap perfume smeared on his left jacket sleeve. At least it was only mid-afternoon. That gave him a couple of hours to explore. "I assume we're going to the Trainers Lodge?"

Campanella hoisted her bag over her strong shoulder and huffed. "The Lodges are nothing but glorified hostels. They're free, but all you're gonna receive are a bunk bed and a locker…unless you pay for an upgrade. I don't know what y'all's financial situation looks like; but _I'm_ staying in a hotel. Here." She held out a piece of paper. "It's my room number and phone extension. If you need me or wanna meet up, call first."

Once Campanella left, Cynthia turned her attention toward Cyrus. "I'm still fine with using the Trainers Lodges. If Professor Myrtle loses her grant, then we'll be working on a tighter budget. We'll need to cut costs where we can. I'm fine with splurging a little for a private room, if you don't mind sharing."

"That all depends on how cheap the upgrade is. We might not have to share."

Cyrus's parents worked for two of Sunyshore City's most lucrative tech firms. Both firms paid them handsomely, so they could afford to give their child a hefty allowance. Cyrus seldom bought things and tended to hoard his finances, mostly because that money would need to support him someday…provided he ever worked up the nerve to run away.

Considering he'd done that by accepting this internship; now was as good a time as any to use the nest egg.

"How about you scout it out and let me know how it looks?" Cynthia asked. "I kind of offered to escort Ana home to her grandmother's apartment…"


	8. An Unexpected Reward

Cynthia's back felt light and unburdened. She hadn't expected Cyrus to take her bags for her, but was grateful that he offered. And he was right: traveling around with all her belongings could prove dangerous if she accidentally ended up in a bad neighborhood. She kept her PokéStat in her coat's left pocket and Eevee's Poké Ball in the right. The only other thing she decided to keep on her person was her wallet, just in case she and Ana needed to stop anywhere.

' _Maybe I should do something nice for him before I come back,_ ' she decided. ' _I've borrowed his stuff, he's taken my bags, and he really seems to care about my personal safety._ ' Cyrus wasn't exactly cute or cuddly, but Cynthia at least liked his calm, rational demeanor. He was practical, and that was really important for a research job.

' _I could pay his tab at dinner, or maybe buy him a few supplies and sneak them into his bag when he isn't looking._ ' She'd figure something out. For now, she was more concerned with making sure her new friend made it safely to her nana's home.

Ana held her hand, more than eager to lead the way. "I'm so glad I ran into you, Miss Cynthia. I'm big enough to find my way home, but…" She fidgeted a bit. "Some of the bigger kids know I have a Pokémon. They always wanna fight. Sometimes I don't."

"Sometimes I'm not in the mood for battling either, Ana. But you'll only improve if you keep trying."

"But we always lose!" Ana admitted. "It's hard. Princess Sparklebutt tries her best, but we never win. The bigger kids have bigger Pokémon. She's just a baby."

The hardest part for Ana was telling her parents about the bullies. Both of them insisted she tell a grown-up, but some of the trainers who challenged her were grown-ups! What good was that gonna do? Her father even told her that Princess Sparklebutt tried her best because she didn't want to see Ana cry, but that only made the girl cry even more.

"Do you think I should catch more Pokémon, Miss Cynthia? Better fighters? I don't wanna hurt my Pokémon's feelings an' have 'er think she's no good at this, but…she's not."

As soon as Cynthia found an available bench, she sat down and patted the seat beside her. "I'm in a similar predicament right now," she confessed. "It's going to be two long months before I get my Pokémon back. All I have right now is an Eevee my boss loaned me."

"Eevees are cool," Ana murmured, her sparkly pink high-top sneakers swinging back and forth as her feet dangled above the snowy ground.

"Like your Cleffa, Eevee's only a baby. He only knows four Normal type moves, but I can tell he's eager to show me what he's capable of. I'm going to train with him as much as I can, but that means picking his battles very carefully. You have to be especially careful with baby Pokémon, Ana. If you invest a lot of time and care into them, they'll grow up good and strong."

Cynthia put her gloved hand to the little girl's shoulder and gave Ana the biggest, nicest smile she could muster. "The fact you already think of your Pokémon as your best friend speaks multitudes to what kind of a trainer you'll become. If somebody challenges you, fight as hard as you can. You might lose a lot of battles at first, but you'll only ever win if you fight in the first place."

…

Plumbum City had the same industrial mid-century architecture as Natrium Town, save for the addition of a few historical streets. In those locations, beautiful buildings with high stucco walls, arched roofs, and bright colors stood out in contrast to the unfriendly gray monochrome. Ruby red, sapphire blue, and emerald green were all paired with white latticework which left the buildings resembling dollhouses or extravagant birthday cakes.

They were few and far between. Most were dilapidated and in dire need of renovation. The gray concrete buildings outnumbered their colorful counterparts nearly a hundred to one. Tourists occasionally stopped when they saw a pretty building, just so they could take a few pictures on their disposable cameras. Cynthia took a few as well, wondering how many towns and cities still maintained a relic or two from the colonial days.

"Pretty, aren't they?" Ana nudged her. "Mama says she wants to buy one an' fix it up for Nana, but none of the houses in my city look like this. They're all inside a giant greenhouse, so it's warm enough to walk around without a coat."

"Where are you from, Ana? My friend and I are challenging the Kinzo Pokémon League, so maybe we can visit you if your town has a gym."

Ana beamed at the prospect of seeing her new friend in her hometown. "Cuprum City," she chirped. "My parents work for a tech company out there. They're super good with computers. They even helped me set up a PC account so I can store any extra Pokémon I catch—not that I've done that yet. It's hard to catch anything with just Princess Sparklebutt."

That's when the little girl had an epiphany. "Oh, I know! Follow me!" She grabbed Cynthia's right wrist and ran toward a two-story building with a neon Poké Ball sign flashing over the door. "I know you said you'd been to other regions, but this is a Kinzonian Pokémon Center."

The interior didn't look too different from the Pokémon Centers Cynthia recognized from home. The nurse in attendance wore the familiar uniform, several of the same safety posters were displayed on the walls, and the machines looked the same. The only thing that really stood out as different was the color scheme.

Sinnoh and Unova both used a lot of windows for ambient sunlight, as well as bright and cheery colors to make the center look like a welcoming, friendly place. The Plumbum City Pokémon Center was covered in the same white tile as the Metro, but nobody dared to graffiti it. It was immaculate. Cynthia couldn't find a single chip or stain anywhere, but it left the center looking uncomfortably sterile.

"This way," Ana insisted, tugging her arm again. She dragged the older girl to a terminal with roughly a dozen computers for visitors to use. A nearby sign notified users to limit their use of the computer to 30 minutes, just to ensure everyone had an opportunity to use them. "I'll help you setup an account. This way you can check on your Pokémon and even talk to them. The only thing you can't do is pull them out 'cause they're in quarantine."

"You're a smart little girl, aren't you?" Cynthia didn't get an answer to that question. Ana simply held out one hand expectantly. "Hm?"

"Gimme your Metro Pass. It's got your Trainer ID number on it an' I need that to create your account."

Cynthia didn't know her Trainer ID number off the top of her head, so she just handed Ana the pass. The girl's tiny fingers flew on the keyboard until she proclaimed her actions complete. Within seconds, Cynthia saw her Trainer Card picture flash on the analog screen. A virtual inbox proceeded to appear on-screen: listing out the species, levels, and status of each Pokémon.

They were all there: Gible, Riolu, and Roselia. Perfectly healthy, perfectly safe…

"If you click here, you can write them a message!" Ana explained. "So…that's the PC. You can show your friend how to create his account later, if you think he'd like that."

"I'm not sure if _like_ is the right word, Ana; but he'd probably appreciate having real-time data on his Pokémon." If the Trainers Lodge had internet access, then she was pretty sure Cyrus could figure this out on his own.

…

It was detour after detour with this kid. Ana took her into a PokéMart to show her where to buy supplies, where the Plumbum City Gym was located, and where some of the other tourist-friendly areas were.

Although all the information Ana gave her was incredibly helpful, Cynthia strongly suspected the little girl wanted to drag the errands out as long as possible because she was lonely. Ana was a long way from home. Unless she used to live in Plumbum City or came here regularly, chances were the only person she knew was her nana.

' _Maybe she just feels safer having an older kid with her._ ' They had passed nearly two dozen ten-year-olds, all of whom were showing off their Pokémon and challenging one another to battles. Some of those boys made a few steps closer to Ana, Poké Ball already in hand, but thought twice about it when they saw she had a teenager with her.

Those kids didn't know the only thing Cynthia had on hand was a Level 5 Eevee. They wouldn't have to find out unless they challenged her. Fortunately, they were too intimidated to give it a go.

"We're close to Nana's brownstone now," the little girl informed her temporary chaperone. "She's two blocks that way."

But one more building caught Cynthia's attention: a gargantuan red brick building with an imposing, tall wrought iron fence. Although a master artisan had designed the fence to resemble a beautiful rose bush, it came complete with needle-sharp thorns. "What's this place?"

It was the first time that entire afternoon she'd seen Ana scowl. Sure, the kid frowned a few times, but this was an actual look of disgust. "Sweetmetal Pokémon Academy," she grumbled, attempting to tug Cynthia elsewhere.

It wasn't going to work this time.

"A Pokémon Academy? It's so big I mistook it for a university!" The fact Ana kept digging her toe into the pavement, pouting and frowning, wasn't lost on the blonde. "Is something the matter?"

"I know you said you're gonna do the league challenge. Have you fought any of our Gym Leaders yet?"

"I plan to, but no. I have not."

"Well, _this_ city's Gym Leader owns this school and he cheats. When Mr. Simon beats you, he tells you to study hard and try again. Sometimes he won't even let you fight him again until you take one of his classes." Ana instinctively reached for her bag, clutching it tighter to her chest. "I've lost my allowance to him five times already. My lunch money, too!"

' _What a jerk!_ ' Without even realizing it, Cynthia had clenched both her hands into fists. ' _What he's doing sounds like extortion. Is it even legal?_ ' But there was no point in upsetting her little friend. "Maybe I need to teach him a lesson."

"You _doooo_! You hear that, Mr. Simon!?" Ana shook her fist at the big building. "We're gonna get you! Best watch your back!"

With no further delays or distractions, the pair made it safely to the brownstone. Ana glanced over the list of tenants and buzzed the right button. "Hey Nana," she spoke over the intercom. "It's me: Ana. A friend walked me over here to make sure I got home okay. You there?"

It took a few seconds, but an old woman's voice replied over the static-ridden, busted speaker. "YEAH! I'M HERE!" The voice was so loud that Cynthia almost doubled over. The next time the old woman spoke, she covered her ears to save them from another blast. "COME ON IN, ANA HONEY!"

"Your nana is a little hard of hearing, isn't she…?"

…

"THANK YOU FOR WALKING MY DARLING GRANDCHILD HOME!" It wasn't simply over the intercom, apparently. The old woman was practically stone deaf. "DID YOU WANT TO COME IN, DEAR?"

"I probably shouldn't," Cynthia replied politely, making sure Ana's grandmother could see her lips at all times. A lot of her grandmother's friends back in Celestic Town had hearing problems, so they relied on reading people's lips to fill in the gaps. "It'll be getting dark by the time I make it back to the Trainers Lodge, and I don't have a permit to stay out past curfew."

That and she'd never seen that many Glameows in such a cramped space before. Just from peeking in from the hallway, she'd managed to count at least ten different cat Pokémon running around. Each one mewed for Ana's nana's attention, pawing at the edges of her hot pink bathrobe. One particularly persistent pussycat climbed up the woman, even drawing a bit of blood with his claws, but the woman didn't seem to notice.

She was a short, squat old thing with big orange-tinted glasses that made her face resemble a Hoothoot. Despite how ancient she looked, not a single hair on her head had turned gray or white. Her trendy bob was a rich maple brown, just like Ana's pigtails; though Cynthia strongly suspected Nana got that color out of a bottle.

"I SHOULD AT LEAST OFFER YOU SOMETHING, COMRADE! HOLD ON A MOMENT." By this point, even Ana looked embarrassed. "DO YOU LIKE RAGE CANDY BARS?"

"Um…" No. Not after she'd chipped a tooth on one four years ago. But if that would be enough to satisfy the woman's generous nature, she'd accept it. Maybe she could re-gift it to Campanella or Cyrus later.

"WAIT. HOLD ON. THEY'RE ALL EXPIRED! MY GOODNESS…" The woman paced back and forth, scratching her head from between her curlers. One Hoppip slipper fell off her foot. Before she could bend down to grab it, one of the Glameows tackled it. The cat bit the shoe's toe and started kicking the other side with his hind legs, ripping stuffing out with every scratch.

"AH HA! HERE! THIS SHOULD DO NICELY!" Cynthia bit her lip, about ready to politely decline the gift, until she saw what Ana's nana had in hand: _tickets_. "WHY DON'T YOU AND A FRIEND EXPLORE THE ÆDRANOS RUINS TOGETHER? MY TREAT! I PLAY POKER WITH THE CURATOR AND WIN THESE SOMETIMES…"

Cynthia glanced down at the tickets. Her silvery eyes widened in surprise when she saw how much a private tour actually cost. ' _There's no way Cyrus and I could justify paying that much._ ' They were roughly 5,000 poké apiece! "This is really too much, ma'am. I should at least—"

"If you wanna get to the Trainers Lodge before sundown," Ana whispered, "just take the tickets. Nana wins them all the time. She won't miss them."

…

' _Okay. There's the Trainers Lodge. I might as well check in and call it a night._ '

To her disappointment, that errand ended up costing her the whole afternoon. As much as she wanted to take her colleague out to a nice dinner at a restaurant chain she'd missed since her girlhood; that would have to wait. The black vans with the loudspeakers were already on the streets, announcing curfew would be in effect in approximately ten minutes.

Some of the fast food chains advertised that their delivery drivers had nocturnal passes and could deliver to the Lodge. Maybe she'd do that instead.

She just wished her ears would stop ringing.


	9. Unexcused Absence

****Author's Note: Canonically, we do know that Cyrus came from a bad home. We don't have too much information, save for what his grandfather shares with us in the Platinum game and some of his manga iterations (I'm thinking mostly of the few panels where he talks to Diamond the Pokémon Special version, as I don't think DPA touched on his childhood at all).****

 **With that in mind, we're going into this knowing that his parents aren't good people. This chapter focuses on them, so I wanted to put a small warning for readers who have a sensitivity to domestic violence, as well as physical and verbal abuse in writing. This may be a chapter you'll want to skip.**

 **Though, one small note some folks may find amusing: when designing these two, I took some of the drastically different interpretations of Cyrus and used those for baselines for designing each parent. His father, Alexander, is heavily based on the anime version. His mother, Nichole, is modeled more after his Pokémon Special counterpart with traces of his game version.**

 **As the story progresses and both characters get more chances to develop, they go in some pretty different directions, but we've got a** ** _long_** **way to go...**

 **…**

The past four days had been a breath of fresh air. Then again, ever since her son started high school, any opportunity to travel without him felt like a vacation. Sunyshore City used to be a beautiful, wide-open land of opportunity for engineers and developers like Nichole. Now she felt claustrophobic. The beachfront townhouse especially made her feel uneasy.

Her husband used to joke with her, saying she watched too many true crime documentaries about serial killers and cults for her own good, but she sometimes went to bed at night wondering if something was wrong with their kid.

Cyrus was a loner. He was quiet, withdrawn, and didn't much seem to care about the feelings of others. Late at night, especially on nights when she was much too stressed to sleep; Nichole's brain began to wonder how long it would be before her son lost interest in taking machines apart and moved on to small Pokémon…or somebody's unattended younger child.

For now, at least, he was a generally obedient boy who seemed determined to meet his parents' expectations. Despite his introverted inclinations, Cyrus was at least polite and did what Alexander and Nichole asked with minimal complaint…unless he disagreed with them.

 _Then_ he would find some way to circumvent their authority and get what he wanted through other means. Maybe he'd manipulate his grandfather into taking pity on him, or maybe he'd find an "ally" in the school and tell that person there were problems at home.

He'd done both of those things before. She hadn't forgotten. Nichole couldn't understand why he'd spread such malicious lies.

She never struck him, nor did she ever yell. He never starved and went for routine checkups with the best pediatrician in the city. His clothes were always new and well-made. They paid nearly 200,000 poké each semester to keep him in that elite magnet school and paid for cram school on top of that. They'd set aside an exorbitant sum for his college fund. There would even be enough for him to (ideally) go on to get a graduate degree in something lucrative like Computer Science, Engineering, Law, Business, or Medicine.

If Cyrus asked for something, Alexander or Nichole typically gave it to him. All they demanded in return were the Valedictorian seat, an early acceptance to Canalave University, an economically viable major, and a job that paid seven figures by the time he turned twenty-five. This meant he had to maintain perfect grades, sign up for all the right extracurricular activities, and charm at least one teacher at that fancy school well enough to write a dazzling letter of recommendation.

But sometimes he'd bring home a B or he'd skip out on an extracurricular because it didn't line up with his interests. Sometimes Nichole suspected Cyrus did that for no purpose other than to get a rise out of them. It worked with Alexander. He'd explode. Nichole wouldn't give him the satisfaction of seeing her upset, but she'd find little ways later to make sure Cyrus knew he'd made a mistake.

It was a quiet car ride back to Sunyshore City. As soon as Alexander found a jazz station on the radio, he flipped it on just to break the silence. Nichole twitched at that, finding it impossible to concentrate on her book anymore. She slid it back into her bag.

"What sort of state do you think the house will be in when we come back?" she asked. "We _did_ leave him alone for a week…"

"He's a teenager," Alexander replied calmly. This was their exit. They'd be home in a few more minutes. "If we had a normal kid, we'd come home to find a stack of dirty dishes piling up in the sink, a mountain of laundry he hasn't bothered to wash, and probably a few bags of half-eaten junk food strewn about the living room."

Nichole gave her husband a knowing look. She wasn't amused. "So you think everything will be exactly the way we left it?"

"I don't just think. I _know_."

Just to be on the safe side, she'd check the contents of the refrigerator to make sure anything that spoiled was taken out with the trash on Friday. Cyrus sometimes got so caught up in his projects that he forgot to eat or sleep. It was why he already had a gaunt face like his father, why his eyes constantly had dark circles beneath them, and why he was so deathly pale. Chances were at least a few of the meals Nichole prepared were still in the fridge and starting to spoil from neglect.

…

She'd expected to find three or four of the twelve prepared meals rotting in the refrigerator. He'd only eaten one. The eleven others were unopened: each decaying and collecting bacteria in their individual plastic coffins.

Alexander craned his head behind his wife to take a look and raised one of his thin, navy blue eyebrows. "What the hell did he eat while we were gone?"

"I don't know…"

Curious, Nichole checked the pantry to see if any of the granola bars, fruit leathers, or other things she sometimes used as meal replacements on busy days went missing. The boxes weren't even opened. Curiosity got the best of her, but she couldn't even find the telltale wrappers of fast food in the garbage. Each can was empty.

' _Did he take out the trash? If so, why are these still here? He knows better than to leave spoiled food unattended._ '

She could already hear a low growling noise come from her husband's throat. He tended to make that sound right before he blew up. He got like this at his job at times. Just three months ago, he'd been called into an HR meeting to discuss his temper when he threw a defective motherboard against a conference room wall. That day, one of the QC inspectors failed to catch an IPC-A-610 Class III mistake and sent the nonconforming board all the way to the end user. Nichole didn't have the full details, but Alexander told her a man died because of that mistake. They fired the inspector.

Today, he'd show that same heated, unfriendly emotion toward their child for being so wasteful.

"Check upstairs," Alexander hissed; keeping his arms folded tightly over his chest. "I'll look down here." But there was no sign of Cyrus. The entire downstairs, including the living room, was uncomfortably immaculate. It may as well have belonged to a model home.

Upstairs, Nichole found no further signs of intelligent life. Her son's bedroom door was shut, but no noise came from inside. "We're home," she notified the door, rapping her knuckles lightly on it. Typically, he'd be a good boy and open the door, utter a polite greeting, and come downstairs. She didn't get a response.

It was too early in the day for Cyrus to be asleep, so Nichole let herself in. The bed was neatly made, no incomplete homework was left on the clean desk, no loose components or tools were strewn across the floor…

The only sign her son had ever been there at all were the dirty clothes in the laundry hamper.

"He isn't downstairs!" Alexander called out. Nichole couldn't see her husband's face, but heard the anger in his voice. Today was one of those days where he wouldn't place a filter between what he thought and what he said. The floodgates would be unleashed, and it would be ugly. "Any luck up there?"

"None…" but she knew he couldn't hear her. She stepped out of the room and shook her head.

…

"I know it's been a while since I called you, but something's happened out here."

Nichole's father lived alone on Route 228. He was a quiet, private person who mostly kept to himself unless he needed something from the nearby town. Even then, he wasn't above asking a younger trainer to run his errands.

She could still hear Alexander outside. He was pacing back and forth angrily on their patio, his satellite phone practically glued to his left ear. His strong jaw kept flapping up and down in fast, aggressive motions. Nichole was certain small flecks of spit left his lips with every sanguine hiss. He'd placed a call to the magnet school, asking if anyone there had seen Cyrus over the past week.

Considering she could make out some of Alexander's responses through a wall of tempered glass and whitewashed solid brick, Nichole suspected Cyrus was every bit as absent from the school as he'd been at home. Her proof came in watching her husband knock over the patio table with a strong kick.

Fortunately, Alexander's victims were usually inanimate objects. As tough as he wanted to appear when something upset him, he seldom had the nerve to strike a living thing. He'd done that only once in recent memory: right before the business trip.

"We had an altercation last week." _Altercation_ : a euphemism to candy-coat what actually transpired. "Is my son with you?"

"Cyrus?"

"How many children do you think I have?" Maybe that came out a bit more sarcastic than she'd hoped. "Yes. We've been at a business conference in Veilstone City all week, so it's possible he got lonely and wanted to visit."

"Nichole, when you say _altercation_ , did Alexander—"

"No." But he did. It was the first time in five years he'd physically abused their son.

He'd only ever struck him twice before. The first time, Cyrus had voiced his disinterest in applying for a residential school in another town, even though Nichole clearly explained why it was important that he attend. Behind their back, Cyrus pulled the paperwork out of the mailbox and shredded it. Nichole only found out because she called the school. The application never arrived.

A year after that, Cyrus went behind their backs again and filed for a Pokémon Trainer License over summer vacation. Nichole found a Coal Badge and an occupied Great Ball underneath her son's bed while vacuuming. She wasn't sure what upset her more: that he deliberately disobeyed her; that he'd lied to her face and said he understood why she wanted him to wait; or that he somehow convinced _her_ father to keep the whole thing a secret.

Both times before, Alexander detonated. His voice roared loud enough to make the walls shake. Nichole could feel every single shouted syllable through her rail-thin body. Even secondhand, Alexander's rage was so intense that she believed she could have felt and understood the whole sordid soliloquy, even if she'd suddenly gone deaf.

Although he'd never laid a hand on her or used that tone with her, that sort of behavior terrified her. When he got like that, she didn't want to be anywhere near him even days afterward. Her only consolation in those moments was that he'd never cross her. If he so much as stepped out of line, he'd beg for her forgiveness.

Cyrus wasn't so fortunate.

He'd simply taken the hit and gone silent: glancing down at the ground as his eyes welled up. He sucked on his mouth until it turned into a flat line, just so neither parent could see how much his lower lip wanted to quiver. He'd tremble a little, but he'd wait out the storm: privately praying that the worst of it was already over.

This last time, he talked back. He got right in Alexander's face, meeting vitriol with vitriol…and it was over within seconds. The last time Nichole saw her child, he was skulking upstairs with a cold compress over a bruised eye. The last thing she heard was the sound of him locking his bedroom door. Angry as he was, he still didn't have the nerve to slam it shut.

"I don't know what to tell you, Nichole. Cyrus isn't here."

Then there was no other reason to continue that conversation. She hung up without so much as a goodbye.

' _What have you done? Did you run away?_ '

She shut her eyes, leaning back on the couch for a short while. Every time she took a few deep breaths, counted backward from ten, and tried the other self-soothing methods her therapist had recommended; all her brain wanted to do was play out end-game scenarios.

They weren't going to have a valedictorian. At this rate, they weren't even going to have a _graduate_. Either Cyrus ran away or somebody abducted him.

' _Who am I kidding? Nobody would be stupid enough to—'_

When Alexander came back inside, Nichole could tell he'd gotten most of the rage out of his system. Although he was still angry enough for his hands to shake as he locked the patio door, all color had left his face. For an instant, their eyes met. He had that same dead, half-gone look their kid typically did. "You're not going to believe this."

Nichole wasn't much of one for guessing games, so she waited for Alexander to elaborate. Her arms remained at her hips, her thin chest pushed forward. "Try me."

"He's in the Kinzo region." He was right. She didn't believe it. "One of his teachers convinced him to apply for a study abroad program and the professor selected his application. Apparently, Cyrus forged my signature so it looked like I gave permission for him to go. This…"

Nichole buried her entire face in one hand, letting her fingers rub at her eyes. "I know. It's an unprecedented level of defiance. He's lashed out before, but never to this magnitude. I suppose he really wants his independence."

"Well, he's not going to get it! We brought his ungrateful ass into this world. He owes us everything! Children are supposed to obey their parents until—wait. Why are _you_ so calm!? You're his _mother!_ You should be—"

"I have this under control," Nichole answered calmly. "If our son wants to break ties with us and pave his own path, I suppose there's not much we can do to stop him. However, if he thinks his actions won't have any repercussions, he's sadly mistaken." She got up from her seat and leaned closer to Alexander. "Do you trust me to handle this?"

Alexander nodded his head.

"Then call the school back and find out which teacher encouraged him to file that application. I have another call to make: one that will get his attention. We'll know where he is by tomorrow."


	10. Morning Action Plan

For their first night in Plumbum City, Cynthia and Cyrus slept in small (but adjacent) private rooms. Last year, Cyrus had attended a one-week science camp at Canalave University and stayed in one of the dormitories with a roommate. The rock-hard industrial-grade mattresses, thin sheets, and scratchy comforter in the Plumbum City Trainers Lodge were very similar. It wasn't that big of a deal, he thought, until Cynthia complained about how little sleep she managed to get the following morning.

"My morning's already booked," the blonde girl grumbled. "I put in a reservation at the Plumbum City Gym to battle the Gym Leader at 10:00." That way she could treat herself to a nice breakfast and be thoroughly awake by the time she and her on-loan Eevee faced Simon. "When are you going to challenge him, Cyrus?"

"Maybe this afternoon." He wanted to see how well Cynthia did against Simon before he made a reservation. If she came back victorious, he'd have nothing to worry about. If she came back without a Lead Badge; he'd know that his Eevee would need some further training. "Or tomorrow. I haven't decided yet."

His indecisiveness seemed to amuse Cynthia. She scooted her chair closer and gave him her best smile. "If that's the case, could you shop for better bed supplies while I'm out there? At the very least, we'll need fabric softener. Last night, I felt like I was trying to sleep in a paper bag."

"What about a sleeping bag? Would that work?"

"Ooooh! Good idea! Since we'll want to hit the frontier in the future, I guess that makes more sense!"

Maybe he should have told her he was tempted to explore the city, but he didn't. "Do you trust me to pick something decent?"

" _And_ practical," Cynthia insisted, still grinning. "I know they make Kinzo-grade sleeping bags. They're supposed to be good for the coldest climates on earth. I'll pay you back for my stuff once I'm back at the Lodge, okay? Just save the receipt."

Having decided now was as good a time as any to start venturing toward the gym—after all, some gyms had additional trainers eager to challenge newcomers—Cynthia picked up her breakfast tray and dumped her remaining food in the trash. "Well, I'm off! Are you gonna wish me luck?"

"You already completed two other regional challenges."

"Yes, I _did,_ but—"

"Experience is more important than luck. You'll be fine."

…

Before Cynthia left, she'd at least been considerate enough to jot down a full list of things she wished to add to the team's inventory. ' _Kinzo-grade sleeping bags, collapsible pillows, jersey cotton sheets…_ ' There were Pokémon supplies on the list, too. Potion, Ether, and…right. Repel would defeat the whole purpose of their research. Sure, it would keep the common Pokémon away, but the rare ones would keep their distance, too.

' _We'll probably see a lot of Zubats._ '

Anyone who had ever explored a cave knew they were statistically more likely to run into a Zubat than another person. Those flying, screeching things were everywhere. Every cave smelled like guano and whatever smaller creatures the bat Pokémon attacked for their food.

They were typically a pain to deal with, but Zubats learned a Ghost-type move at Level 7 and a Dark-type move at Level 11. Both of those types had an advantage over Psychic Pokémon: Simon's specialization. This would probably be the only time in Cyrus's life where the prospect of catching a Zubat excited him, but he knew he'd need to face this guy with more than just a Level 5 Eevee.

' _If any parts of the Ædranos Ruins are dark and crowded, I'm sure I can find one._ ' And his Eevee would do well enough to help him catch something like a Zubat. The two Pokémon he had in quarantine—Houndour and Murkrow—sounded like perfect matches against Simon's gym, but he'd have to try now or wait two months. Sitting still for that long felt would be a waste of time, and Professor Myrtle wouldn't appreciate it.

Cyrus placed the list in his left pocket and decided one last thing needed to be tended to before he disembarked. "Excuse me," he called out to the old man who owned the Trainers Lodge. "How much does it cost to make a domestic call?"

"Domestic calls are free. International calls cost 1 PokéDollar per minute."

Reaching for his contacts book, he located the number he wanted and dialed, waiting for Professor Myrtle to pick up on the other end. The screen for the videophone clicked on, showing Myrtle's flushed face. "Ah, Cyrus! Hi! I saw a Plumbum City area code on the screen and figured it had to be you or Cynthia. I take it you made it over there without any trouble?"

"Yes, Professor. Campanella isn't staying in the Lodge with us, but we're all in Plumbum City. Cynthia's even challenging the Gym Leader right now." Myrtle sniggered a bit at that and muttered something, but Cyrus didn't hear her. "Do you know his lineup?"

"I do," Myrtle insisted, "but I'm not about to spoil the surprise for either one of you. How's my Eevee doing? Are you two getting along alright?"

"I'm sorry. I haven't had an opportunity to let him out of his ball yet, but he'll have problems with some of the later gyms. I wanted to discuss the possibility of—"

"You want to evolve it into something else? I'm surprised neither one of you asked me that back in the lab. Eevees are notoriously difficult to maintain in their original form, especially if you plan to battle them rather than breed them. They learn fewer moves and Normal types don't have an advantage over any other type.

"I don't mind if you evolve him, kid. The PokéStat will still be able to track Eevee biosignatures, even if you evolve it into a Vaporeon, Flareon, Jolteon, or whatever. Just be sure to think long and hard about what you want to turn him into before you make the change. What might work against one Gym Leader might put you at a disadvantage with the next one…or the next one."

"I promise I won't go into this blindly. I'll figure out which evolution will give Eevee the best advantage and call you before I do anything."

It looked like Myrtle agreed with him, which was a relief. If she'd refused to even consider the notion of evolving Eevee, Cyrus would be fighting with an unnecessary disadvantage until he returned it.

Myrtle picked up another one of her Eevees and placed it on her lap. The little fox stared at the screen and occasionally butted its head against the professor's hand so she'd pet it. "It's actually a good thing you called when you did. I finally heard back from the embassy! Your nocturnal passes should be ready for you by the time you arrive in Kalium City. That's your next stop, in case you haven't had a chance to read your travel guide yet."

That was great news!

"Can you pass the word along to Cynthia? I'll call Campanella a little later. I have a sneaking suspicion I know where she is."

"Of course, Professor. We'll talk again soon."

…

Cynthia wasn't sure why she half expected Ana to appear outside the Trainers Lodge, but there was no sign of her. ' _She's probably spending time with her nana._ ' But part of today's victory would be dedicated to that little girl, as well as every other challenger Simon had extorted to pay for Sweetmetal Academy.

"Come on out, Eevee. We might as well get a little exercise before we make it to the gym!"

The fluffy creature came out of the Poké Ball and stared up at the girl with his big black eyes. Cynthia stooped down to pet him, only to notice the Pokémon's tail twitched in quick, jerky motions when she did that. He didn't seem to mind when she stroked his cheeks and behind his ears, but he let loose a little growl each time she stuck her hand over his head.

Eevee didn't seem to like the snow, either. He kept his dainty brown feet on the bare patches of cobblestone and kicked his paws in annoyance when he touched something wet. Cynthia chuckled. "You're a pampered little prince, aren't you?"

The Eevee lifted his head high and wiggled his long ears. "Vee."

"Well, sir, I hate to break it to you: you won't be getting any preferential treatment from me. I won't treat you any worse than my other Pokémon, but—"

"Vee?" Eevee's eyes narrowed as he tilted his head. "Veeeeee?" His long ears pointed upward, wriggling in annoyance. Cynthia knew he was being serious, but she couldn't help but giggle. He looked so funny! That Eevee made the same crankily cautious expressions Professor Myrtle did.

"Listen. I have a Gible, a Roselia, and a Riolu waiting for me in quarantine. While you're on my team, I intend to give you the same amount of love and care I give them. You just won't get anything extra. Not unless you earn it."

"Vee?" Eevee pointed a paw toward the Plumbum Gym.

"Mmhmm. That's how. I even have a nice big bag of treats I'm willing to share if you win."

That sparked a change in the Pokémon. Although the Eevee dragged his feet for most of their trek to the Plumbum Gym, he was now darting and bolting ahead of Cynthia to get there first. She noted he still wanted to avoid the snow, so she'd decided to help the little guy out. "Okay, okay. Stand still. I've got you."

It backfired. Eevee didn't like being picked up.

He was a good sport about it at first, but quickly gave the girl a dour, unhappy look. His tail twitched angrily and he started to snarl. By the time Cynthia made it to the Plumbum Gym's front gate, Eevee had enough. He flopped like a rag doll: going completely limp in her arms. When that didn't work, he proceeded to wriggle around like a Magikarp out of water until he twisted himself free.

For all his trouble, the grumpy fluffball landed in a pile of snow. "Vee…" he grumbled, trudging along to the door.

…

Before the party split up yesterday, Campanella gave both teenagers the address of the hotel where she planned to stay. Cyrus checked his address book one last time to confirm he had the correct street address. He just couldn't figure out how a research aide could afford to stay in a five-star neoclassical hotel within walking distance of the ruins.

The Plumbum Promenade Resort stood atop a hill, which overlooked the icy ocean harbor. Down below were rows upon rows of outdoor shops painted in vibrant colors. A nearby sign informed Cyrus that this hotel was the hub for the city's historical district.

Whenever his parents traveled for work or conferences, they tended to stay in places like this. His father's company hosted elaborate holiday parties, though he'd only brought Cyrus along with him once. Even then, that was only because his mother was sick with pneumonia last year and Alexander would sooner bring his teenage son than go alone.

The floors were marble tile; not the mock linoleum he'd seen in most other places. Elaborate mosaics of Kanto's legendary elemental birds decorated the walls. He'd read in the travel guide that the birds made a migratory path each year through the Kinzo region. That was probably why Professor Myrtle hired a tracker like Campanella to help with the research.

Men in designer suits and women in expensive dresses strutted by, oftentimes with a Pokémon carrying their luggage. Nobody made eye contact with Cyrus. They treated him as though he weren't there. He took a few steps back and attempted to find one of the elevators.

No wonder Professor Myrtle complained about her grant money drying up. Maybe she needed to be made aware of Campanella's spending habits.

Cyrus looked around for a while, trying to find an athletically-built redheaded woman, and finally spotted Campanella in the hotel restaurant. She kept taking bites from her meal: a large waffle covered in whipped cream and chopped berries, paired off with some kind of pastry and a cup of coffee. Sitting across from her was a dark-haired man in a black business suit.

The man raised his coffee mug to Campanella: a gesture she replicated with a haughty smile and a loud laugh. The man then pointed toward one of the mosaics, which made the redhead nod her head and affectionately pat his shoulder.

He'd catch up with Campanella later. He hadn't felt hungry at breakfast and only ate a cup of fruit because Cynthia insisted he do so. Now his stomach was cramping up and demanding some sort of sustenance.

…

"That's quite an Eevee you've got there. Does he do contests, too?"

Cynthia shook her head. She'd tried Pokémon contests once when she visited an uncle in the Hoenn region, but she never could get into them. Battles were more her style. "Thanks for the battle. We had a great time of it." And she'd be sure to give Eevee all the Potions and Ethers he needed before they progressed to the next battle.

She'd been right; Simon had a multitude of trainers teeming around his Gym. Almost all of them wore a prep school uniform with a familiar insignia on the blazer: Sweetmetal Academy. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

The girl Cynthia just defeated gave her a couple of rapid blinks before answering. "Come again?"

"I couldn't help but notice almost everyone in here attends Sweetmetal Academy. Did you enroll before or after you battled Simon?"

The girl's friendly expression melted away, only to reveal something bitter and unhappy. "Look," the girl whispered in Cynthia's ear. "If you lose to him too many times, you _have_ to enroll. It's the only way he'll agree to a rematch if he sees no potential in you. I've been taking courses for six months and I _still_ can't beat him."

"Well," Cynthia promised, "if I beat him, I'll tell him to give you and everyone else a rematch." She thought the girl would smile at her. She didn't.

"How many times do you think we've heard people say that? _I_ said that…"


	11. Cynthia vs Simon

In its past life, the Plumbum City Pokémon Gym had been a soda manufacturing plant. Several of the pipes continued to flow through the building, though now the water was dyed a dark blue color and infused with seaweed glitter. Nobody could drink it, considering the open water spaces were now covered by refortified glass.

White Christmas lights twinkled beneath large silk curtains showing the different astrological charts. Some walls were painted to look like Tarot cards, while others were mirrors. The end result was a labyrinth of false rooms and seemingly infinite portals. After Cynthia defeated the final Gym trainer, the Tower card door slid upward to reveal a pitch black room with twinkling stars.

"You're right on time, challenger."

Sitting in the center of the room was a shady figure in a hooded robe. The only skin Cynthia could see on the man were his dusky hands, which made gestures over a glowing crystal ball. Each finger had a different ring on it, and his nails were a little too long.

"You are a first-time opponent. I welcome you to my gym. Shall we trust your future to fate, or would you like to see the outcome of this battle before we begin? Please…take a seat."

Cynthia's eyes went toward the crystal ball. A palm reader opened up shop in Celestic Town not too long ago. At first, Cynthia thought it would be fun to have her fortune read and considered giving the woman her allowance money. Then her grandmother found out and insisted that all fortune tellers were swindlers and cons.

"You're a long way from Sinnoh, my dear," the man insisted, pulling his hood back. He was a handsome fellow with a pointed goatee, thin mustache, sun-kissed skin, and a monocle. His black hair was curly and thick, neatly tied away from his aquiline face into a long ponytail. "I am Simon: the leader of the Plumbum City Gym. I like the determination in your eyes."

' _It's there because I want to win!_ '

"You think you stand a chance, which is admirable. I can tell that even when you walk out of here in defeat, you will come back much stronger than before. You aren't intimidated by Gym Leaders. You have done this before."

"I have," Cynthia confirmed, reaching for Eevee's Poké Ball. He was all Potioned and Ethered up: full HP, full PP, and ready for another challenge. Things had gone so well in this set of matches that Eevee had grown from Level 5 all the way to Level 10. "I've acquired a grand total of sixteen badges so far, and even held my own against the Sinnoh league's champion."

"That makes you a rare treat for my gym," Simon conceded, "but the fact remains your old lineup is probably still in quarantine. I only see one Pokémon on your belt. Either you've been here long enough to get your Pokémon back and you defeated two leagues with just one Pokémon—which I'd _love_ to hear more about if it's true—or you're starting a new lineup from scratch. Which is it?"

"Doesn't your gym plaque say _Simon Morozov: Kinzo's Modern-Day Prophet?_ You tell me."

"It's a new team," Simon decided, "which means this battle will be played by first-timer rules. I will pass that information along to Jet, Kai, and George as well. I predict you'll have your old lineup by the time you make it to Apollo."

Cynthia had read over the travel guide enough to recognize those names as the next four Gym Leaders. "So you admit it: I _will_ defeat you."

Simon chuckled as he stood up. He tapped a platform beneath the fortune-telling table, which descended to beneath the floor. "You will," he agreed as he reached for a Poké Ball marked with a bronze stripe, "but not today. Call out your first and we'll begin."

…

' _It's_ _10:15. Cynthia is probably fighting the Gym Leader right about now._ ' He'd have to ask her how it went later, just so he could determine whether or not his Eevee was in good enough shape to face Simon. ' _I'm not doing it today. It isn't ready and I intend on going in there with at least two Pokémon, not just one._ '

Cynthia went on her first Pokémon journey when she was ten years old. During the Metro ride to Plumbum City, she mentioned having already completed the Sinnoh and Unova league challenges. Sixteen badges and five years of hands-on experience was impressive, but it didn't stop her from making what Cyrus believed was an amateurish mistake. What was she thinking, challenging a Gym Leader with just one Pokémon?

' _She's either overly optimistic or she doesn't mind losing. I guess one defeat is a small price to pay, if it means we'll learn more about the Kinzo gyms._ '

In his pocket, he could feel Eevee wriggling around in his ball. At first, he tried to ignore it; but the little fox was persistent. "You want out? Fine." He'd been meaning to socialize it, anyway.

As soon as the Eevee came out of his ball, he swished his bushy tail and gave Cyrus his biggest, friendliest smile. "Vee vee!"

He'd caught a glimpse of Cynthia's Eevee earlier. It didn't seem as friendly as his, but certainly larger and stronger. Cyrus was quickly beginning to suspect Professor Myrtle gave him the runt. Eevees weren't particularly tall Pokémon, but this one was small even by species standards. That didn't stop it from scurrying closer and putting its tiny brown paws on his left leg. "Veeeee?"

Cyrus wasn't quite sure what the Eevee wanted, so he crouched down to pet it. Immediately, the Pokémon leaned into his hand and nuzzled it. "You're friendly. You know, some people would take advantage of that."

Eevee didn't seem to care. He flopped onto the snow-covered ground and exposed his belly to his new trainer. The Pokémon made eye contact with Cyrus and kept smiling. When the boy didn't rush to pet his soft, downy underside; Eevee wriggled around in the snow and splayed his back legs. That wasn't enough either, so he let loose another happy noise until Cyrus got the message.

He didn't have to understand Eevee's words to figure out what he wanted: _pet me_. He finally conceded.

One stroke caused Eevee to coo with pleasure. By the second stroke, he started to squirm with all four legs twitching. By the third, Eevee latched onto Cyrus's arm and stuck his mouth on the boy's wrist. He didn't use his teeth, but he very clearly wanted to play.

For the next thirty minutes, Cyrus found himself intentionally searching for stray Pokémon by the dumpsters, sewer lines, and back alleys. Each time he found one, he sent Eevee out to attack it for the experience. Every time, Eevee hopped and bounced along in a seldom successful attempt to stay above the snow.

Some Pokémon were more temperamental than others, but this one seemed fairly easygoing. If Cyrus told Eevee to do something, it obeyed. If he gave a command, it didn't hesitate. Cyrus could have kept this up the entire way to the store—and he was fairly sure the Eevee could, too—but his stomach started to growl, demanding food.

At home, he sometimes tended to power through that if he was too caught up in something to stop. However, once it got to the point where his blood sugar started to drop and he felt the beginning of a headache; he knew it was time to call it quits. This couldn't be postponed for much longer, not unless he wanted to faint.

' _I'll order something fast or pre-made,_ ' he decided, stepping into the first coffeehouse to appear on his side of the street. Eevee wagged his tail and skipped inside, remaining at Cyrus's right side at all times.

Considering most people were already at work, the coffeehouse wasn't terribly busy. There were only about four other people sitting around, waiting for their drinks. None of them made eye contact with him, which he didn't mind. He'd rather stay out of their business, anyway.

All four walls in the open floor plan were painted with a blackboard coating. Someone had laboriously taken the time to write each menu item in chalk, trying their best to make each one sound nice. The international league language was posted, but Kinzo also used Cyrillic letters in their local language. Before the trip was over, Cyrus wanted to learn at least a few words.

"A #4 with a cup of Earl Grey, please." The barista took the order, asked for a name to place on the order, and held up her hand to accept his credit card. Without any hesitation, Cyrus handed it over.

"Sorry…it's been declined. Do you want me to try again?" The barista made a second attempt, but all that managed to do was get the machine to let loose another angry buzzing noise. "That's strange. Do you have another card?"

"I have my debit card," though Cyrus hated using it. If his identity was stolen, it would be better for a thief to steal his credit card information rather than the debit card information. Credit cards at least had a cap on how much could be spent. "Here." Annoyed, he turned over the bright blue card, only to hear it buzz as well.

"That card is also declined. Are you sure you have sufficient funds in your account for—"

"Yes!" He was a bit ashamed of how quickly that word shot out of his mouth. "I, uh...I have some loose change. I'll just pay with that and get this sorted out later." Once he paid for his food, he wasted no time in devouring it.

With the cup of tea still in hand, he rushed to the closest ATM and checked the status of both cards.

 **This card has been deactivated as part of a reported theft.**

…

"An Eevee? My…I haven't seen one of those for a while." Simon twisted the edge of his goatee with a finger as he paced back and forth. "Whatever shall I use against such a majestic, adorable, _useless_ creature?"

"Eevees aren't useless!" Cynthia snapped. "He's been battling his heart out all morning, just so he can fight your team! Isn't that right, Eevee?"

"Vee." Eevee lifted his head high: confident, regal, and all too eager to clobber more Psychic Pokémon. He was a bit on the larger side of his breed. His muscles were more toned, his bones were denser, his coat was fluffier, and his neck was so thick that his wedge-shaped head looked small by comparison.

Simon didn't seem even remotely fazed. "I've given it some thought. I know you are destined to lose this match, young lady. I'll start by showing you why the Plumbum City Gym has the lowest challenger victory rate in Kinzo." He tossed the bronze-striped ball into the arena to reveal his first Pokémon.

' _What on earth!? Who starts a Pokémon League challenge with a Bronzor!?_ ' Cynthia could feel her blood start to boil. ' _No wonder kids like Ana are struggling with this guy! Putting a Steel Pokémon at the beginning of a circuit…_ '

Most Pokémon available in the area wouldn't have an advantage against that. Most regions offered a Fire Pokémon starter as an option, and that would perform well against a Bronzor…but Kinzo didn't. Fire Pokémon were incredibly rare.

' _Simon thought this out. He wants people to fail so they'll keep coming back._ '

"But I won't have it said that I'm a poor sport. Your Pokémon may have the first attack."

"Eevee, Tail Whip!" She wasn't above supplementing her new friend with Potions to keep his HP up, but her best bet would be to decrease Bronzor's Defense stats as much as possible. That way, Eevee's one offensive move would land more damage.

Eevee waddled up to the Bronzor on his hefty legs, moved his rump toward the hovering metal disk and slapped his tail against Bronzor's face. Bronzor made a few annoyed noises in mild complaint, but waited its turn.

"Hypnosis, Bronzor." Simon wasted no time. The metal Pokémon let loose a series of psychic waves, which rendered Eevee sound asleep in the center of the arena. "At this point, I would tell you to call out your next Pokémon, but…heh…you don't have any."

Cynthia took a deep breath, fished around in her bag, and was pleased to see she had plenty of Awakening. She pulled the handle and sprayed her Eevee in the face. Eevee growled and swatted at her, as though he wished to strike. "Don't give me that attitude, mister. Your opponent's that way!"

Eevee stomped back to where he needed to go and glowered at the Bronzor. It wasn't fazed. It had seen that exact same scowl from at least a hundred challengers this week. Eevee's anger was nothing new.

"Normally, that would be your turn, but I know I'm at an advantage. So go ahead." Simon gestured to Cynthia. "Let Eevee attack again. Bronzor's quite used to it, I assure you."

' _It's cocky guys like you who give Pokémon Leagues a bad reputation._ ' She wanted to say it aloud, but she wanted to win more than that. And even more than winning; she wanted to wipe that smug, smarmy grin off Simon's face! "Eevee, Tail Whip! Again!"

"Vee?" Eevee wasn't terribly enthused about shaking his rump again, but he obeyed.

"We're doing repeat moves instead of new things?" Simon rolled his dark eyes. "Very well. Bronzor, Hypnosis. _Again_."

"Gah!"

…

"I was wondering how long it would take before you called home."

Cyrus felt physically ill, but he figured out which parent froze his bank account before he even called. Alexander was more the type to take the next flight to Kinzo and drag him back, no matter how much he protested. Nichole wasn't so dramatic, but her methods tended to leave more lasting damage. If Cyrus got on her bad side, she'd figure out what mattered most to him and take it away without warning. It was her modus operandi.

"I'm assuming you called to ask about your money, not because you miss us."

Nichole's face was hard today. Cyrus couldn't tell what she was feeling. She did such a good job of keeping everything buried beneath that stoic mask, save in her eyes. Those, he could typically read…but she was on to him and decided to wear her glasses for the call.

"Your actions made one thing very clear to me: you want your independence. I recall we had a similar argument a few years ago."

Indeed, he had. When Cyrus turned ten, he applied for a Pokémon Trainer License without telling his parents. Nichole would _always_ see him in the wrong for that.

"You're fifteen years old: almost a grown man. I remember what I was like at your age. I thought I had everything figured out, too."

Cyrus remembered. They'd had this talk before.

Nichole's family knew they had a prodigy on their hands by the time she was five. By Cyrus's age, she had moved out of the house to attend one of the top five residential magnet schools in Sinnoh. By seventeen, she was already halfway through her B.S. in Electrical Engineering. By the time she reached the legal drinking age, she landed a well-paying development job for the Devon Corporation's Sinnoh branch. Now they were talking about making her a Vice President of Research & Development.

"Some days, I think your grandfather turned me loose because I no longer viewed him as my superior. I realized I was smarter than him and that sometimes… _often_ …he made mistakes. He wasn't some infallible being anymore: but every bit as human and flawed as everyone else. In this regard, you take after me. You would rather make and learn from your own mistakes than hear what I have to say."

"I…" It was a miracle he worked up the nerve to say anything at all. "All I intended was—"

"It's alright." Her voice had turned much calmer; even soft and a little warm. "I'm not filing a missing persons report or sending the police after you. I even talked your father out of flying out there. I'll permit the expedition."

He didn't buy this attempt at sounding friendly, not for a second. If she was willing to give him something, then—

"You wanted your independence. I'm pleased to inform you that you'll have it for the rest of this year: complete, absolute, _unfunded_ independence. If you wish to call home at any time, we'll accept those charges. Should you decide to come home, I'll buy the first available seat…"

…

Cynthia wasn't sure how long it would be until this vicious cycle came to an end: when she ran out of Awakenings or Simon's Bronzor ran out of slots for its Hypnosis attack. The latter eventually happened, but what came after that was even more frustrating to deal with.

Confuse Ray.

Now poor Eevee was wobbling around the stadium like Professor Myrtle after one too many martinis. His tail twitched in frustration and he made the mistake of thinking it was another Pokémon. Instead of focusing on Bronzor, he chased his own tail, bit hard, and yelped in pain.

"I guess he's not a fan of Tail Whip, either," Simon joked. Some forced, unfriendly laughter came from the Sweetmetal Academy students watching the match, along with a few light rounds of applause.

Eevee appeared to be in bad shape: so bad that Cynthia used an entire turn to medicate him with Potion. "How are you holding up, Eevee? Do we still have a chance?"

"Veeeeee." That tail slapped her. Maybe he was taking the battle as an affront to his perceived toughness. She'd never met a Pokémon as proud as this Eevee, and she wanted to encourage that pride. It meant he'd fight until he wore himself out.

"Are you still confused?" she asked, only to get another tail slap to the face. It would be best not to take any chances. "Sand Attack this time." She'd lowered Bronzor's defenses as much as she could, but its attacks still struck with high accuracy.

Eevee swaggered back and forth, but managed to land a hit. With the sand in its face, Bronzor's next Tackle missed its target. It was a small victory, but a victory regardless. The battle was far from over, but Eevee's pride seemed to swell at that.

' _You can do this, little guy. I can feel it in my bones!_ '

"Eevee! _Now_ we hit him where it hurts. Go for a Tackle!" Eevee did as instructed, using all his weight to bounce onto Simon's Bronzor. Considering how much time and effort—and money; Awakening and Potion didn't come cheap—Cynthia had put into getting Eevee to lower Bronzor's Defense, she excitedly noted the Pokémon appeared to take a critical hit.

"Very good! Bravo, bravo!" Simon applauded lightly, and then used one hand to stifle a yawn. "I suppose I should wrap this up now. Bronzor?" His Pokémon stared at him expectantly. "Confusion."

The lights turned completely off, courtesy of a student. Bronzor illuminated itself, shooting out a rainbow array of bright psychedelic lights in the arena. Eevee yelped, taking the brunt of the hit, and fell over. This time, he didn't get up.

When the fake star lights turned back on, the table came back up from the trap door and Simon threw his hooded robe back over his shoulders. "The stars have spoken, my dear. You went farther with that one Eevee than most people get with an entire six-Pokémon team. Good match." He held out a hand to shake. Cynthia took it, though she didn't particularly want to.

"I'd even venture to say you're the first person I've battled all month who _wouldn't_ learn anything new at Sweetmetal Academy." Cynthia supposed that was as close to praise as this guy was likely to give out. "Tell you what: once you have a second Pokémon in your party, I'll agree to battle you again and tell the other trainers to give you a pass. It won't be hard to find one. Tourists sometimes leave their pets behind and they turn into strays."

That…she didn't want to think about that. Did people actually abandon their behind, just to—

"Now if you'll excuse me, I have to prep for my 11:30. Take care, Miss Cynthia. We'll meet again before the moon is full."

…

It took a solid hour to walk from Simon's Gym to the Trainers Lodge. That still wasn't enough time for Cynthia to cool down. She made a quick stop at the Pokémon Center to get poor Eevee looked at, but his pride was hurt. Now he wouldn't even let her pet him behind the ears. When she tried, he acted like he intended to bite her.

' _We'll go someplace nice for dinner,_ ' she decided. ' _I'll get that dessert I've been thinking about for the past two days. Then we'll head back, see if there's anything good on TV, and decompress for an hour or two before bed. Yes…bed. At least we'll both be sleeping in nice new sheets tonight…_ '

The older gentleman who ran the lodge had tea and finger sandwiches out for the trainers to enjoy. Many of them sat around the table, simply snacking and swapping stories.

Five young men from Kanto were complaining about Simon. Each time the Gym Leader's name came up, they each took a swig from a shared cheap bottle of vodka. The only girl at their table—a gaunt, unfriendly-looking creature with limp brown hair—rolled her eyes but jotted down each attack they said they used. She had some kind of chart in a scuffed-up notebook.

A group of younger kids were holding out their Poké Balls and pointing toward a Battle Room. A red light flashed outside the room, indicating it was occupied. As soon as the light turned green to show a vacancy, they ran inside and slammed the door. The light immediately turned red again. A third boy in their party got left behind and pounded on the door, crying to be let in.

"Ah! Just in time!" Cynthia turned around to see the Plumbum Lodge Owner had spotted her. She'd already forgotten his name. The old man smiled and gestured for her to come closer. "We're having a light lunch over here if you'd like to join us, Miss."

Normally, she'd accept the invitation. After all, her favorite food flavor was _free_. She just wasn't feeling all that social after losing to Simon Morozov. All she wanted to do was find Cyrus and chat with him in the private room. Well, that and see what he'd managed to buy during her battle.

To her surprise, he wasn't in his private room. Cyrus sat in a wing-backed chair near the fireplace, his two travel bags by his side. A half-empty teacup was there, but he wasn't paying it any heed. His Eevee was curled up and sound asleep on his lap, but that didn't register either. As he stared blankly into the flames, Cynthia noted how tired and worn-out he looked. Most kids their age couldn't make a face that exhausted.

"What on earth are you doing out here?" Cynthia asked, wondering if he'd be angry that she broke his reverie. She expected him to brush her off, say everything was fine, and to butt out of things that didn't concern her. Instead, his lips moved without any noise. "Cyrus?"

"I can't keep the private room. It's too expensive."

"So we'll share. No big deal."

"I can't afford that, either. I can't even afford food or supplies." Let alone expensive sleeping bags and fancy sheets.

Cynthia quickly decided that whatever was going on with him had to be more important than her defeat. Something was up and it all happened while she was away. "What happened?"

"My parents didn't authorize this internship. I took it without telling them. They're understandably angry and decided the best way to teach me a lesson would be to freeze my accounts. I'm broke."

It was the most he'd ever shared about himself. Even then, Cynthia had a slew of questions she wanted to ask. Why didn't he tell his parents? Why weren't they happy their son was selected? If they didn't sign the form, then how did he get here?

' _Did it have something to do with the black eye you had on the plane?_ '

"I'm sorry," she found herself saying. "You were quick to lend me a hand when I ran into some trouble. I'm fine with returning the favor." She forced out a smile, trying to get him to return it. He couldn't even look at her.

"I mean it, Cyrus. You don't have to quit now. We'll figure this out. We'll get you set up with a Kinzo bank account. We're older than ten, so all you really need is a valid ID. I had to do the same thing in Unova. It's easy! And when we get our first paycheck from Professor Myrtle, we'll see what we're dealing with and budget accordingly. And if you start battling other trainers and win, they pay—"

She realized there wasn't much of anything she could say or do to help him. All Cyrus wanted to do was shut his eyes and mull this over: playing scenarios in his head until he found a solution. _Any_ solution.

He'd never looked so resigned.


	12. Ædranos Ruins

**Author's Note: Years ago, I had an opportunity to view a visiting Pompeii exhibit in my city's science museum. Copies of the plaster casts were placed on display. Although the details were not very clear, they were still distinct enough to leave a lasting impact on me.**

 **I wanted to place a small content warning on this chapter, in the event any readers have a discomfort regarding descriptions of dead bodies, end-of-world scenarios like the Pompeii/Vesuvius incident, and/or the paranormal.**

 **…**

Even though Cyrus's financial situation had drastically changed, Cynthia continued to pay for a private room. She insisted that sharing it with a coworker wasn't the end of the world. He kept to himself so much that it was almost like having a private room anyway. All this really meant was that Cynthia had to ask Cyrus to turn around when she changed clothes.

She insisted none of this was a big deal, but she could see the frustration building in his tired eyes. He felt powerless and vulnerable. Plumbum City was almost 9,000 kilometers away from Sunyshore City. He had no money or family out here. Unless he caved to his mother's demands and decided to come home, he'd have to live with the ramifications of every decision he made: good or bad. For someone not used to that much independence, that prospect could be terrifying.

As soon as the curfew lifted, the pair made their way to one of the Kinzo national banks so Cyrus could set up a basic checking account. It wouldn't gain any interest, but there were no fees for maintaining it. Once everything was settled, the next order of business was to contact Professor Myrtle and give her the direct deposit information for payroll purposes.

They stopped in a nearby restaurant and ordered the cheapest, fastest thing on the menu. Although Cynthia said she'd treat Cyrus, she took note of how his face tensed up each time those words left her lips. ' _He probably thinks I'm doing this out of charity,_ ' she realized.

Wanting to change the subject, Cynthia proposed a different question. "What should we do for the rest of the day? I can go ahead and tell you that fighting Simon's a bust until we capture more Pokémon. Your Eevee won't stand a chance against his Bronzor, and I couldn't even get to his second Pokémon."

Cyrus didn't answer at first. He kept staring out their table's window view of the street. "Most things cost money," he murmured. Cynthia noted his eyes appeared to be morbidly fixated on a panhandler outside.

 **Lost my life savings to Simon Morozov** , the bum's sign said. **Every little bit helps. Arceus bless**.

"I can spot you until we get paid," Cynthia insisted, trying to pull his attention away from outside. She wasn't going to let him end up like that. "But don't factor in the stuff we share. I was going to buy those things anyway. We can spend the day exploring Plumbum City and looking for stray Pokémon. Maybe we can practice using the PokéStat by following ferals."

And then she remembered what Simon told her. "There's also the possibility of adopting a Pokémon from a local shelter. Some tourists leave Pokémon behind when they come here and never return for them." A part of her wanted to check that out and give one a good home, but she could already predict what Cyrus was going to say before he said it: _adoption fee_. "Well, _you_ don't have to adopt something…"

' _Think, Cynthia. Think! Surely there's_ _ **something**_ _we can both do on the cheap and—oh! Right! I almost forgot!_ '

"Why don't we visit the Ædranos Ruins today?" She held out the tickets. "Remember that little girl I walked home? Her grandmother gave me these. They're full access passes for an extended tour. We can look around and make a whole afternoon of it! Does that sound like a plan to you?"

As she slid one of the tickets across the table, she noted something had changed in Cyrus's body language. It was very faint and barely noticeable, but she caught it. The edges of his mouth had curled upward into a faint, subtle smile.

…

Their tour guide was a kindly old gentleman with a thick white mustache and even thicker eyebrows. Cynthia couldn't even see the man's eyes beneath all the bushiness, but it was kind of endearing: like a human Stoutland. At their guide's side was a geriatric Houndour so old that every last part of its black fur had turned pewter gray. It wagged its tail expectantly at the tourists, wanting one of them to pet him. Cynthia obliged.

"You have no idea how much good it does my heart to see young people show an interest in ancient history!" The old man grinned so widely that half his mustache covered his tobacco-stained teeth. "I wasn't that much younger than you when I first visited Ædranos. My academy took us here for a field trip, and I was mesmerized. This place is sacred ground. I was so moved that I decided to become an archeologist!"

' _Did we come here to see the ruins or hear your life story?_ ' Cyrus politely nodded his head each time their guide finished a sentence. Each time, that nod went toward the ruins, hoping the old fellow would get the hint. He didn't.

"I've long since retired, but I was actually one of the people who excavated the bath house. But I suppose you're here to actually explore and see things, not hear a sentimental old man talk about how he fell in love with a place!"

' _Yes. Exactly!_ '

"So long as the flash on your camera is off, you can take as many photographs as you like. I also ask that you not touch anything or leave any marks behind. Even the oils in your hand can permanently damage the ruins. Lastly, please be respectful of the atmosphere and of the dead. You can come and go from these ruins as you please, but the former Ædranos residents cannot do so. What you'll see today are not replicas, but the actual plaster casts containing the human and Pokémon remains."

Cynthia took a deep breath and put a pair of gloves over her hands, just to be on the safe side. "Sir?"

"Please, call me Andrei."

"Will we need to keep our Pokémon in their balls as we explore, Mr. Andrei?"

"Oh, there's no need. Old Indy here always joins me on the tours." Andrei pet his old companion's head a couple of times, smiling proudly when a tiny flame left the dog Pokémon's mouth. "Most Pokémon are more considerate of their surroundings than small children are. So long as they mind, they're no problem."

"And any wild Pokémon…" Cyrus interjected. "Considering how great a tragedy the eruption was, I'd assume that would attract Ghost Pokémon?"

' _Oh!_ ' Cynthia couldn't help but grin at that. ' _That's what you're planning to do!_ ' It wasn't a bad idea. Catching a Ghost Pokémon would give Cyrus an advantage over Simon and make his battle more—

"You're more likely to find Zubats, I'm afraid. Some of our nocturnal visitors—they're few and far between, mind you—have reported ghosts and Ghost Pokémon in the ruins; but we'll be finishing up in well enough time to not break curfew. If you come across any wild Pokémon, you're welcome to catch them. Just remember to respect the atmosphere and deal no lasting damage to the ruins."

That seemed fair enough.

…

Getting to the top of a steep hill took nearly ten minutes. Cyrus was out of breath and needed a moment to recuperate, but the hike was worth it for the view alone. Andrei insisted it was the highest point in all of Ædranos and provided an aerial view of the entire city. Several tourists moved along the marketplace, the coliseum, and the bath house: all neatly falling into line with their guides for the free tour.

"We'll visit those locations last: after I've taken you through all the exclusive areas we reserve for the private tours," Andrei explained. "For instance, we've recently excavated a few locations near the waterfront. Two years ago, another team of archaeologists unearthed a slave market and what we can only speculate is the sacrificial pit for the fire god's temple.

"That's what makes Ædranos so unique from the other ruins we've unearthed. Most of the Argenti Empire –which stretched across most of Kinzo and some of the outer islands—worshiped Articuno as a winter god. Ædranos and her sister city of Mulciberia are the only two places that worshiped a fire god instead. He was their sun: their giver of warmth, light, sustenance, and rebirth…and that sun turned on them."

Cynthia briefly closed her eyes, pretending that the sights and sounds she heard from below were from the original settlers rather than fleeting passersby. She could picture the commotion in the markets, the sound of Pokémon helping their human companions with their daily errands, and maybe even the sound of traditional battle within the coliseum.

"Is Mulciberia open for the public?" Cyrus asked, noting how Andrei's friendly smile dissipated upon hearing _Mulciberia_. "Where is that located, exactly?"

"It's a few kilometers beyond Hydrargyrum City, young man; but you'd need to know the right people to see _those_ ruins. The land is privately owned, but you can see its outer walls from Mulciber Caldera Lake. Anyway…shall we continue?"

"I need a minute," Cynthia called out. "I want one perfect shot before we see just how nasty Mother Nature can be."

As the trio continued their descent into the outer regions of the ruins, Andrei continued to go through his script. "By the 1st Century Common Era, Ædranos was an affluent, independent city state that served as a trading hub for nine different civilizations, one of which was the Argenti Empire.

"They hosted gladiatorial matches in a fully decorated coliseum, understood the concept of plumbing well enough to have a fully functioning aqueduct, and even discovered a way to naturally keep their homes warm by channeling the nearby volcano's heat: a gift from their god, of course. That god supposedly lived in Mt. Solarian, right over yonder."

Even in the distance, a faint trace of smoky clouds remained present in the sky. The volcano, according to Andrei, had only suffered minor eruptions since the Ædranos incident and none had impacted Plumbum City. Local volcanologists watched it attentively, not wanting another disaster to befall their location.

"Once a year, the fire god flew over Ædranos to see if his people still lived virtuous lives. Most anthropologists and archaeologists believe the fire god is the Pokémon Moltres, whose annual migratory pattern places it over Ædranos once a year: usually around August 24th. Some birdwatchers have seen it, as have a few conservationist groups."

That tidbit of information was enough for both teenagers to turn and face one another. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?" Cynthia whispered, nudging Cyrus.

"Professor Myrtle?" When Cynthia nodded, Cyrus sighed. "Yes. I suppose she _would_ want data on Moltres." The blonde girl beamed at him, glad that they were on the same mental wavelength regarding this. Their mentor wanted information regarding the migratory patterns of rare and uncommon species. What could be rarer than a legendary Pokémon?

Cynthia was just about to ask Andrei which place in the ruins was best for viewing Moltres, but he had already shifted gears to an ancient historian. The man was oblivious to the fact his guests had any questions at all.

"One contemporary historian, Valerius the Elder, claimed that in the final years before the eruption; the locals were 'nothing but a group of drunken, lecherous hedonists worshipping a false god.' He wanted to justify the carnage, I suppose. If the villagers could be blamed for the disaster, that would make their final fate a little less tragic. The disaster was used as a precautionary tale for the rest of the Argenti Empire.

"But what happened to these people wasn't divine retribution like Valerius would have us believe. It was an act of nature: nothing more. When Mt. Solarian erupted, the force was greater than an atomic bomb. In an instant, this beautiful city was engulfed in a searing hot, inescapable darkness. Her people were trapped beneath several meters of ash and toxic gas. Look…"

Andrei had kept a brisk pace going upward, but slowed down to gesture for Cynthia and Cyrus to accompany him inside an excavated home. As soon as she stepped inside, Cynthia felt a chill go through her body. ' _I feel like I'm intruding: like this is still somebody's home and they never left._ '

And then she saw them: a pair of lovers huddled together in the far corner. Their arms were interlocked, clinging to each other as they drew their last breaths. They knew they weren't coming out of this place alive, or probably ever. On the remains of a cot only a few meters to the right was a plaster cast of a baby with a Glameow sitting on top of it, as though to protect it from the impact.

' _These aren't replicas,_ ' she remembered Andrei telling her. ' _That's the real deal. They're really in there._ '

Cyrus squatted down to take a closer look, thoroughly studying each and every face. Every grimace, wince, eternal scream: this was a testament to pain and fear. These people had died with every hope and dream crushed, knowing the only thing that faced them in those final moments were fire, poison, and temperatures so high that their brains evaporated inside their skulls.

"What are you doing?" Cynthia whispered. "No camera?"

"No…" Something that grim didn't need to be photographed. "I'm memorizing their faces." He'd been afraid a few times at home, especially during one of Alexander's nastier moods; but that felt like mere child's play compared to this. All he'd had to fear was a twisted arm or a broken nose.

These people knew death was coming for them, and they couldn't escape it. Their final moments were nothing but fear and suffering. The pain was so intense that they couldn't even stop to think about why it was happening. Only the historians would decide if an angered god took justice on an evil people, a volcano erupted and claimed innocent lives, or if it was simply time for Ædranos to wither and die.

Every logical, rational part of the human mind short-circuited. All that remained was the quintessential fear of death. Chances were every last living thing in Ædranos thought about how much it wanted to survive, how much death hurt, or if the volcano could just hurry up and kill it. At least then, the suffering would end.

There was no time to think about friends, family, Pokémon, or gods. The earth itself had forsaken them.

' _They didn't die like people. They died like dinosaurs. And as we do with dinosaurs; morbid curiosity compels us to unearth their corpses and stare…_ '

Cyrus felt a brief urge to touch the plaster, knowing a person was trapped inside; but quickly remembered Andrei telling the group to keep their hands off everything. So he looked more closely; noting the silent, eternal scream from the gaping jaw and how defensively this larger body wrapped its arms around a smaller one.

' _More grief. More fear. I never want to make a face like that._ '

"Take as much time as you need to look around," Andrei assured his guests. "There are hundreds of other buildings to explore, each with its own eternal residents."

' _Every single building…there's more…_ '

"Did everyone just accept their fate?" Cyrus asked, already dreading the answer. In a situation like this, he knew he'd personally want to run for it, even if he didn't get very far. Staying in the town was a death sentence, but…those _faces_ …

"Some of them tried to run," Andrei admitted, gesturing toward the marketplace. Another tour group was finishing up there. "They grabbed garments and tied it over their faces as makeshift masks. Some even grabbed pillows to cushion their heads from the falling pumice stones. The air was sulfurous and the only sources of light were the flames that crept up when people and Pokémon caught fire."

Cynthia peeked outdoors. Sure enough, there were several bodies scattered across the broader streets. Many of them had crushed skulls.

"But it's so curious how nature can preserve its worst atrocities with such detail, isn't it? The layers of ash preserved the mosaic art, the murals, and even the contents of several scrolls. The ruins may as well have existed inside a vacuum until we unearthed them." Andrei continued for a while longer, but then he felt his pager buzz by his right hip. "My apologies. My wife needs me to call home. The two of you have full-access passes, so by all means. Explore."

Once the old man was out of earshot, Cynthia moved a bit closer to Cyrus. "We have two choices. Either we can join up with one of the free tour groups and talk to another archaeologist; or we can do that some other time and look at the exclusive areas by ourselves until sundown. What do you want to do?"

"I want to see that temple."

…

Andrei had claimed all of Ædranos could be viewed from the top of the highest hill. He was correct, but the height played a cruel trick. The ruins were far more expansive than they initially appeared. It took nearly an hour to descend, walk through the streets, and make it to the farthest point. Every so often, Cynthia stopped to double-check her map, just to confirm they were going in the right direction.

They could always return some other time to see the public places. Today's passes were a one-time-use gift and there was no guarantee they'd have enough loose change to explore these areas again anytime soon, especially considering Cyrus's financial situation.

A flurry picked up, scattering fat white snowflakes on the ground. It was cold enough to stick to the bodies strewn about the streets. A thin layer of rime began to cover buildings and corpses alike. The snow did nothing to cover their faces, but merely contorted them into more exaggerated grimaces.

Cynthia's Eevee took slow, dignified steps and gave each plaster cast a wide berth. It didn't matter that the people and Pokémon inside the casts died almost two thousand years ago. They still looked too alive for his comfort level. Just as he found a patch of sunlight to sit in, Cyrus's Eevee decided to pounce. Cynthia's Eevee growled, rearing his head back in warning, but did nothing to defend himself. Even with Cyrus's Eevee biting the scruff of his neck, he never delivered on any of his threats. All he did was make a bunch of noise.

After what felt like forever, they made it to their desired destination: Blue Dot #48 on Cynthia's map. "The map says this is the fire god's temple." Within seconds, she whipped out her disposable camera and took a good shot of the temple's exterior. "How incredible! The columns were carved to resemble flames. It even looks like they melted bronze over the stone to make it glisten!"

Somewhere, Cyrus remembered reading that archaeologists once believed the ancient Argenti people carved statues and erected temples out of unpainted stone: choosing to accept the stone's beauty without any sort of augmentation. It wasn't until some of the more recent Ædranos excavations that the truth became clear; they _did_ paint over the stone and the end result sometimes looked ridiculous. Traces of red and gold paint remained on the temple columns and walls.

"Eevee," he called out, gesturing for his Pokémon to come closer to his side. Although he'd just successfully pinned Cynthia's Eevee to the ground, Eevee let go and playfully darted toward his trainer. He bumped his head against Cyrus's left hand, hoping to be stroked behind his ears, but it never happened.

There was a pungent odor coming from inside the temple: something wild and alive. In one of the shadier corners, Cyrus spotted further proof that living Pokémon turned the temple into a home. ' _It's_ _Zubat guano. I'm close._ '

The interior of the temple was an ancient marvel. A series of large silver bowls were strategically placed to catch the light so the building would only turn dark when the sun set. In the center of the foyer was an elaborate mosaic of a flame-haired god riding atop a golden bird. Scarlet and yellow rays pointed outward in all directions.

Every other place in Ædranos was littered with corpses. The temple contained only one body: a human collapsed near the sacrificial table with a knife still in hand. His face pleaded for mercy he'd never receive. The holes where his eyes once were pointed toward the fire god's mural. He'd carved the knife into stone to write something.

"That's strange…" Cynthia moved a bit closer, studying the corpse. "I would have thought more people would have chosen to come here and pray." She felt a strange presence within the temple. No matter what she did, she couldn't shake the feeling something was watching her: something heavy and unfriendly.

"I'm going to explore the back," Cyrus informed Cynthia. "The PokéStat says something's in there." She didn't appear to pay him much heed. "If I'm not back in fifteen minutes—"

"I understand. I'll look for you."

…

It took longer than fifteen minutes. In fact, finding Cyrus again nearly took Cynthia an hour.

By the time she found him, both he and his Eevee were resting with their backs to one of the brass plaques put in place to explain the temple's purpose. Trainer and Pokémon alike were dirty: a bit roughed up, but at peace. In Cyrus's left hand, Cynthia noticed one more occupied Poké Ball. Whatever he'd been after, he caught it. His breathing was a little shallow and she could see clouds form each time he exhaled.

' _Was the hike too much for him? He barely eats and he stays up later than I do._ ' And the ruins were massive. Ædranos stretched over at least four square kilometers and they'd gone every which way. They must have walked a total of sixteen kilometers in the ruins alone. That didn't even count the hike to get here.

Cyrus's Eevee had decided to make use of his trainer's lap: doing all he could to keep his human (and himself) warm in the biting cold. All four of his paws were tucked beneath his fur, giving him a loaf-like appearance. Instead of waking up her research partner, Cynthia opted to take a picture of him instead. She'd get these developed tomorrow and give Cyrus a copy: a nice little something to remember the Eevee by once he returned it to Professor Myrtle.

' _Thirty more minutes,_ ' she decided. ' _Once I'm done exploring the temple, I'll wake him and tell him it's time to leave. No point in missing curfew…_ '

The plaque seemed as good a place as any to begin. She used a gloved hand to brush off the dust, curious to see what Andrei and his associates had to say about the temple.

"This temple was the center of religion for the Ædranos people," she read aloud, touching the bronze. "The central foyer was a place of prayer and sacrifice that could hold up to three hundred followers at maximum capacity.

"The fire god's offering of choice was called _solitaurilia_ and consisted of a Swinub, a Mareep, and a Tauros. As was true for other city-states across the Argenti Empire, the sex of the Pokémon sacrifice had to match the sex of the god. Sacrificing a Pokémon with rare markings provided even better fortune for the town. All internal organs were removed to ensure the purity of the sacrifice.

"When a perfect _solitaurilia_ went up in flames, the fire god would grant one request from the high priest. The body in this temple is believed to be the priest's. The words carved into the stone beside him, _Tibi mentiti_ , translate to—

"…you lied," Cynthia murmured. She'd taken enough language courses to understand Argenti.

' ** _Yes…_** ' The room was silent, but she could feel the words surge through her head. ' ** _Yes, he did. He was never a god in the first place._** _'_

' _What…?_ ' Turning around, she had to cover her mouth to stifle a scream.

…

The tour was officially over. Their guide waved goodbye to everyone and tried desperately to herd the tourists like a flock of Wooloo into the gift shop.

"A gift shop? Disgusting! I swear, capitalists will try to make money off anything they can: even old graves…"

Natela's partner wasn't paying her any heed. Unlike her, he was taking great pleasure out of perusing the hats, t-shirts, and other kitsch to see if there was anything worth his while to bring back to his workplace. "Look, Natela! They have post cards!"

"How sick in the head do you have to be to want a post card of—you know what? Never mind. I forgot who I was talking to. I'll be back in five."

"Oh? Important call?"

"Waiting is _muda_ , Avdantil. We can't keep our boss waiting." Even though it wouldn't do her pockmarked face much good, Natela took a brief moment to check her makeup. Most public phones were videophones, and she was counting on their bad picture quality to blur out her worst features. Her Beta had a soft spot for the prettiest girls and she wanted that sort of attention, too.

She slipped a few PokéDollars into the payphone and dialed the restricted number, plugging in the correct extension when prompted. It took a few seconds for her boss to accept the call. When his handsome face appeared on the screen, Natela's whole body went warm. "Greater than the sum of our parts." It was a traditional Team Sigma greeting.

"Greater than the sum of our parts," the sapphire-haired man replied calmly. "You're an A1 Gamma, Natela. You and Avdantil should know better than to contact me unless it's important. I'm assuming the lead about Ædranos paid off?"

"Yes, sir. We found and weakened the target, but we can't extract any information out of it until dark. We'll need to break the law a little and bypass curfew to catch the—"

"You're only breaking the law if you're _caught_ , my dear. If you need to stay late, keep a low profile and wait until after sunset. Relay my orders to your partner."

Natela gave a quick salute. "Yes, Beta Aldous. Of course, sir."

…

' _I've heard of this Pokémon before, but I never…I never thought I'd encounter one!_ '

A pair of angry green eyes and a jagged mouth glowed from the center of a purplish fog. The darker the temple became, the more the Pokémon showed up in contrast. The fog wafted out of a broken stone, perilously close to the high priest's final message to the world. "You're a _Spiritomb_ , aren't you?"

Spiritombs were cursed creatures: possessed by over a hundred souls, all trapped and condemned to spend eternity in one confined space. Cynthia supposed if ever there was a cursed city in the days of the Argenti Empire, Ædranos would be on the top of the list. But were those souls all human, all Pokémon, or—

 ** _'Child…who do you think you are? What gives you and your friend the right to intrude on our sacred ground?_** **'**

Cynthia's gray eyes widened in fear. She took a step back, knowing enough about Spiritombs from her research with Professor Rowan to understand how malicious they could be. They weren't happy creatures, nor were they known for being friendly. When tragedies happened and killed many people, Spiritombs were known to appear. Sometimes they'd even attack the living for no reason other than spite.

 ** _'In my final spell, 107 trapped souls joined with mine.'_**

The air felt heavier, staler, and smelled of dust and detritus. The cold and damp from the snowfall blasted ice-cold jets toward Cynthia. Snowflakes and sleet stuck to her hair, causing it to clump together as the ghost's temper rose.

She felt heavy: like the gravity in the room had intensified by a small percent. Her arms and legs felt dragged down, like every motion would expend twice as much energy as it typically did. The Spiritomb was angry, and the only focus for its rage was her. ' _Is it exerting its pressure? Is_ _ **that**_ _what this is!?_ '

From the interior of the central stone, Cynthia noticed more cracks than were typical for the species. This Pokémon was in pain. Somebody had attacked it earlier and left it to nurse both its wounds and its grudge.

 ** _'As Ædranos burned, I sacrificed one last solitaurilia to our god. I pleaded with him to keep us safe and together. He repaid us like so. He was no god, but a liar._** **'**

"You were…" Cynthia gestured toward the corpse in the sacrificial foyer. "Were you that man?"

 ** _'One of us, yes. We were gladiators, priests, merchants, wives, slaves, masters, children, the elderly…all choking on sulfur and ash until the stones trapped us too far beneath the earth for anyone to save us. We remained asleep for almost two thousand years, until people just like you decided to desecrate our town and unearth our shame.'_**

It glowed brighter, the fog turning larger. Each green orb within the cloud turned a bright golden color as the Spiritomb's mouth opened to freakish lengths. When it roared, the noise was loud enough to wake up Cyrus and Eevee. Cynthia ducked, trying to avoid a noxious purple cloud of unidentifiable smog.

 ** _'You irreverent…sacrilegious…blaspheming—'_**

"Cynthia!" Cyrus got to his feet and reached for his second Poké Ball. If this thing wanted to battle them, then he needed to be ready. Every strand of fur on his Eevee stood up as it hissed at the ghost. "What is that thing!? What did you wake up?!"

 ** _'HOW WOULD YOU LIKE TO HAVE YOUR CORPSE ON DISPLAY FOR THE AMUSEMENT OF OTHERS?! FOR STRANGERS TO STARE AT YOUR FINAL MOMENTS AND PROD YOUR CORPSE AS THOUGH YOU WERE A SIDESHOW?!'_**

The ground began to shake. A column cracked, threatening to fall. An entire swarm of Zubats flew into the foyer and toward the darkening sky. They had spent too long in the temple, and now this angered embodiment of the dead and damned intended to take them down, too.

Cyrus gestured for Eevee to get ready and called out a new addition to his party: a Zubat. Fighting this thing seemed like the only way out. Nothing dwelling on that much rage would listen to reason.

Cynthia didn't see it that way. She wanted to talk the Spiritomb down before this got out of hand. She held out both hands, indicating she had no intention of battling it. There was no telling what level this Pokémon was at, but she suspected neither she nor Cyrus had anything in their party that would stand a chance against it. "I would hate it every much! I can't even begin to imagine how upset you are! Being treated this way, you probably—"

"You see, Nat?" a smug male voice called out from the foyer. "I _told_ you it wouldn't be active until after dark."

' _After dark?!_ ' Cyrus glanced through one of the open spaces, realizing these intruders were right. The sun was setting and the air's temperature seemed to drop a couple of degrees with each passing minute. Off in the far distance, he could even hear the sound of the black vans announcing curfew would begin in ten minutes.

"Yes, yes. You sure showed me," a female voice replied with a mildly annoyed sigh. "Let's just catch the damn thing and go."

"Who are you?" Cynthia called out.

"We are Gamma Squad A1 of Team Sigma," the girl answered firmly. She jutted her chest forward until her breasts threatened to pop out of her jacket. "You should go. We have unfinished business with that Spiritomb and you don't want to miss curfew."

"No!" Cynthia refused to get out of the way. The souls inside that Spiritomb had been through enough anguish already. Being captured by a gang would only cause it more suffering. "If you think I'm just going to stand by and let you capture this Pokémon—"

The girl yawned and rubbed some of the sleep out of her eye. With it came some cheap lavender eye shadow and powder foundation. "We don't care so much about that Pokémon as we do its information. That Spiritomb knows how to summon the god these people used to worship."

"And you think that means I'll walk away and let you catch it?!" Cynthia hissed, growing angrier by the second. "No!"

The girl sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "It was worth a shot at least, right? Very well. You won't go away? Let's wager on that." Her hands reached for a Poké Ball on her yellow belt and she grinned wickedly. "If you and your friend beat us, we'll walk out of here and come back for that Pokémon after you're gone."

"And if we still refuse to leave?" Cynthia hissed.

"It really isn't up to you, girl," the girl jeered. Her partner was readying his stance too: a crazed and bloodthirsty look in his dark eyes. "One way or another, that Spiritomb is leaving with us!"

"Cyrus?" Cynthia turned to her friend, worried. "I don't know about you, but I'm not leaving here until that Spiritomb is safe from these people. Are you gonna help me, or do I have to do this myself?"

Cyrus was visibly anxious over being out past curfew, but he took his position beside Cynthia. "Why would I let you have all the fun?" he asked sarcastically. "Here goes nothing…"


	13. Team Sigma: Gamma Squad A1

"You really have some nerve, interrupting our plans," the dark-haired boy hissed. "How about it, Natela? Why don't we show these foreigners what happens when they cross Team Sigma's best Gammas?"

The stringy-haired girl groaned and shook her head, trying to ward off an oncoming migraine. "Avdantil, how many times do I have to tell you we aren't…" She rubbed her temples with one hand and bounced a Heal Ball around with the other. "Never mind. They already said they'd fight us. I guess they're asking for it."

' _It looks like they're readying for a double battle formation._ ' Cynthia nudged Cyrus's shoulder, hoping to get his attention. "I think we'll have to partner up. Is your Zubat ready?"

"I gave it a Potion. Is that enough?" Cyrus had no idea. There hadn't been enough time to check its stats or even its level yet. "It _better_ be ready." Though he suspected it was a lower level than his Eevee, so chances were it would be better to start this fight with his new Pokémon.

"Okay, Eevee," Cynthia called out. "Go help Cyrus's Zubat!"

Natela of Team Sigma blinked her hazel eyes slowly, like a feline showing affection. There was no love in this gesture, though: just annoyance. "An Eevee, huh? If you got that thing from Professor Myrtle, I'm not worried. It's probably every bit as inbred as she is.

"Here…" Her thin lips began to curl upward, almost like the sneer the Spiritomb gave earlier. "Let me show you what a _healthy_ Pokémon looks like. Bee-Bee, you're up!" She tossed the Heal Ball into the heart of the temple, waiting patiently for her Combee to fly toward her.

That was the meanest-looking Combee Cynthia had ever seen. It zigged and zagged, buzzing threateningly each time somebody made eye contact with it. The only person it _didn't_ buzz at was its trainer. "And you, Avdantil? What are you using?"

The curly-haired boy snorted and held up a badly dented Poké Ball. "Why not my best? Bidoofus survived Ferrum Town's death matches for almost ten years. This тупица and her ugly friend should be an easy win for him!"

When Avdantil's Poké Ball hit the ground, a disoriented, cross-eyed Bidoof with a chipped tooth waddled out. It was the saddest, sorriest-looking Pokémon the Sinnohan kids had ever seen in their lives.

' _I don't have time to sit around and wait to see who should move first,'_ Cyrus decided. "Zubat, Astonish to Bidoof." Aside from challenging the Oreburgh City Gym five years ago; this was his first real experience against another Pokémon trainer. He'd handle it like a chess match and see how far that took him.

"Hey! Bidoofus!" Avdantil barked. "I think you can finish that Eevee off with a Rollout!"

By the time Avdantil identified Eevee as his Bidoof's target; Zubat had already attacked. Instead of hurting Cynthia's Eevee, the Bidoof flinched. ' _Maybe this won't be a challenge,'_ Cyrus realized, feeling hopeful. ' _He's taking too long to issue commands._ '

"Eevee!" Cynthia called out. "Let's kick that Bidoof while he's down! Use Sand Attack!"

"You don't need to go into theatrics, Cynthia. Just give it a command." Cyrus thought he was being helpful, but Cynthia didn't appreciate him telling her what to do. "What?"

"This is my _third_ region, Cyrus! I know how to battle!" The Bidoof made a distressed noise. "See?"

"Bee-Bee, Gust!" Unlike her coworker, Natela was quick and to the point. She landed a hit, with Eevee yelping at the attack.

"Another Sand Attack to the Bidoof, Eevee!" Cynthia's Eevee waddled over to the Bidoof and kicked some dirt into his face. The creature made a clumsy, hoarse noise in complaint.

"Zubat, Supersonic to Bidoof." Every time Cyrus found a moment of silence in this fight, he'd take advantage of it and issue an attack.

According to the orientation video on the flight over, some of Kinzo's more rural areas didn't abide by standard Pokémon battle protocols. Professor Myrtle had loaned them these Eevees; so he couldn't do anything to put his, or Cynthia's in danger.

Zubat was fair game, though. He'd caught it on his own and could easily be replaced if it died here. Cyrus _hoped_ he didn't die, but he was just trying to think things through logically.

"Is there any reason the two of you decided to gang up on my poor Bidoof?" Avdantil growled, curling one hand into a fist. His jaw was so tightly clenched that he ran the risk of breaking his teeth. "GrrrrrrRRRRRR! COME ON, YOU BUCKTOOTHED BASTARD! HIT THAT FLUFFY PIECE OF SHIT WITH A—"

It didn't matter what Avdantil's command was. Bidoofus was too confused to fight anything other than himself. He ran around in a circle, continuing to make awkward noises, and chomped down on his own tail. The Pokémon cried out in pain, only becoming more frustrated with his predicament.

"Bee-Bee? Gust to Eevee." Natela had made the exact same command before. The little bee blew more air toward Eevee, causing the Pokémon further pain.

' _She's the better battler,_ ' Cynthia noted. ' _Unless this other guy gets his temper in check, he won't be able to battle much longer._ '

She'd heard enough reports about Kanto's growing gang problem to understand that anyone belonging to a group with the word "Team" in it was probably a criminal. Kanto had Team Rocket, but their leader had threatened to send out satellite groups to other regions to accomplish his end goal.

Cynthia had no clue what Team Sigma stood for; but Natela and Avdantil's behavior made it obvious they weren't here with good intentions. "Pssssst." Good. That caught Cyrus's attention. "I think that Bidoof is almost out for the count." Cyrus said nothing, but gave her one firm nod. "Eevee, we've had a change of plans! Hit that Combee with a Tackle!"

Eevee landed a critical hit. The Combee buzzed angrily, flapping her wings faster than before. "Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzzzzzzz!"

"Zubat, Supersonic to Combee!" If the enemy had two confused Pokémon, then their chances of winning this fight would be dramatically reduced. When her Pokémon was hit by the psychic wave, the Team Sigma girl grunted something in her native language and gave Cyrus a dirty look.

"Oi! Bidoofus!" Avdantil shouted, shaking a fist at his Pokémon. "Be a good comrade and use Rollout on Eevee!"

Cynthia winced when she heard the attack name. If Rollout landed a hit, that could be very bad for her Eevee. This time, Bidoofus heeded his trainer's orders and curled himself into a big brown ball. "Dooooooooof," he growled, angry for being confused for so long. He sounded more cognizant than before. He was no longer confused.

Bidoofus rolled at insanely fast speeds, rushing toward Eevee with all his might…and missed. He ended up hitting the priest's body instead. The plaster cracked and then shattered to pieces. Charred ancient bones fell out and the atmosphere of the room worsened.

' ** _HOOOOOOW DAAAAAAAAARE YOOOOOOU!?_** '

Spiritomb roared its displeasure, letting loose a hellish cacophony Cynthia never wanted to hear again. It wouldn't stop screaming, and she could hear its angry thoughts in her head. Those thoughts refused to leave, and they turned dark… _violent_ …

' _It wants to kill them,_ ' she realized. ' _For what they did to the body. It's only going to spare me because I'm trying to protect it, but—_ '

"Bee-Bee, Gust to—huh? Bee-Bee?" Natela watched as the same mean little prank that afflicted Bidoofus for so many turns now applied to her Combee. The Pokémon was still flying in the air, but in awkward zig-zags. Although Bee-Bee let loose a Gust attack, she ended up hurting herself in the process. "Damn it! You're wasting your attacks!"

"Nice going, Zubat!" Cynthia called out to Cyrus's Pokémon. For a brief moment, she thought she could see the blue bat smile at her. A little encouragement went a long way. "You too, Eevee! You're doing fantastic!"

"Vee!"

"But this battle isn't over yet! That Bidoof can't take much more damage. Tackle him!"

Cynthia was convinced that her Eevee could make anything look hilariously majestic. The way he begged for food, butted his head against her hand so she'd brush his fur, trotted regally across the cold snow (until he insisted he had enough), and repeatedly bumped her leg to get her attention: _all_ of it. Eevee rushed toward Bidoofus, running as fast as his short brown legs could muster. With each puff of breath, she heard him pant _vee, vee, vee, vee, vee_!

Eevee wasn't just going to tackle his opponent. He was going to give the best Tackle attack he'd ever mustered. Brown fur met brown fur with a muffled _whump_. Eevee pranced back to his trainer with his head held high, but Bidoofus stayed put: unconscious.

"Rrrrrrrrrrr! This is why I have no patience for foreigners!" Avdantil returned Bidoofus to his Poké Ball and called out his next Pokémon. "Go, Guano Lisa!" A female Zubat entered the arena with a loud, migraine-inducing shriek. She flapped her wings excitedly, eager to join the fight.

"Where on earth do you even come up with these names?" Cynthia asked. "They're horrible!"

"At least my Pokémon _have_ nicknames," Avdantil hissed. "Besides, they aren't _that_ bad. There's this kid I mugged yesterday who named her Cleffa _Princess Twinkletush_ or something just as ridiculous."

"That's Princess _Sparklebutt_ , you insensitive jerk!" Cynthia snapped, furious that this bastard had attacked her friend. Poor Ana deserved better than that! "I know that kid and I know that Cleffa! You're gonna _pay_!"

As Cynthia's verbal tirade against Avdantil continued, Cyrus took advantage of the situation to issue another command to his Zubat. "Astonish to Combee," he ordered. Zubat wasted no time and tried the attack again.

The Combee looked at Zubat in confusion, but didn't react to Astonish whatsoever. Instead, when Natela told her to use Gust; the Pokémon didn't even wait to hear which target Natela wanted. Combee just assumed her trainer would tell her to go after Eevee again, so she did.

"That's…" Natela groaned, slapping a gloved hand over her round face. "I was going to tell you to go after the Zubat! I'm getting sick and tired of that thing only using the same two moves, over and—"

"Eevee! Tail Whip to Combee!" It was a quick order—the quickest Cynthia had ever ordered—but she wanted to know just what all these people had done to poor Ana. If she could find that little girl later and get her money back…

"That's it!" Avdantil shouted. He pointed at Cyrus's Zubat. "You сволочь have given me no other choice! Guano Lisa!" His girl bat turned to look at him. "You see that other Zubat over there?" It nodded. "Go love on him."

Guano Lisa could barely contain her hungry grin. She flapped her wings faster than before and began flying in a weird formation: a _mating_ formation.

"Use…heh heh… _Tackle_ on him."

Guano Lisa let loose a loud squeak of pleasure and dive-bombed Cyrus's Zubat. Her wings entwined with his and she bit his neck to pin him down. Zubat made a few sounds of protest, continuing to flap in an attempt to continue the battle, but Guano Lisa wasn't having any of that. She had other priorities.

Bee-Bee floated precariously close to Eevee, buzzing and waiting for Natela to issue another command. Eevee expectantly waited for Cynthia to give the orders for a Tackle, Sand Attack, or something else. _Anything_ else to distract from the farce taking place in the middle of the ruins!

Cyrus reached for Zubat's Poké Ball, ready to switch him out for his Eevee, when he noted a bright blue light coming closer. It was quickly accompanied by the all-too-familiar sound of police sirens.

"Гавно!" Natela snarled, recalling her Pokémon. "You need to stop, Avdantil. It's time to go!"

"But—"

"It's the POLICE, you мудак! Do you want to stay here and risk losing the—"

"Alright, alright. I'll stop." Avdantil put both Poké Balls back on his yellow belt and gave Cyrus a big, manic grin. Something quite violent was burning in his eyes. "Don't get too cozy in our country. We'll come back when you least expect it."

By the time the police arrived on the scene, both members of Team Sigma were long gone. All they saw were two roughed-up looking teenagers, their tired Pokémon, and the badly weakened Spiritomb Cynthia cradled protectively in her arms.


	14. Broken Curfew

' _We broke curfew_.' That same statement repeated in Cyrus's head over and over again like an unwanted mantra. ' _We just violated a law_.'

There was an entire laundry list of things he never wanted to experience in life. Riding in the back of a foreign police car was rather high on that list. ' _Part of this is my fault. I fell asleep. I wasn't paying attention to the time. And it wasn't like those Team Sigma people would let us leave.._.'

If the officers let him make a call at the station, he'd probably dial Professor Myrtle to explain what happened. There was only one thing that scared him more than being detained in a foreign police station; and that was calling his parents.

He could picture the whole thing in his head. Alexander would probably call him an idiot and yell until his face turned purple. During the call, he'd probably grab something from Cyrus's room and throw it down the stairs just to make a point.

Nichole didn't have to resort to such tactics. All she had to do was look her son in the eye and say those seven damning words: _I thought you were better than this._

 _'But if we called Professor Myrtle, and if I told her everything; would she demand we give the Eevees back? She said we could keep them until we had other Pokémon, but the only other thing I have is Zubat._ '

And Zubat was still too weak to protect much of anything. Just thinking about what that other Zubat did to his made Cyrus angry all over again. That wasn't even an attack. That was an assault. Zubat hadn't even defended himself!

' _If we call the professor,_ _Cynthia will have to tell her about Spiritomb and Team Sigma. Maybe we should call Campanella instead._ '

Yes. Campanella. That made far more sense. As an ex-con, she'd probably be more sympathetic (or at least more forgiving) for the kids breaking a rule. Cyrus just hoped she didn't turn around and tell their boss.

This whole time, Cynthia hadn't spoken to the police officers once. All her attention remained on Spiritomb. When she finally started to talk again, all Cyrus could hear her say were soft whispers to the injured Pokémon. She stroked its stone, trying to make its ghostly face smile instead of grimace. "You'll be okay. I promise. I won't let those people take you away."

' ** _But you did,_** ' it thought. ' ** _You've already pulled me out of Ædranos._** ' But somehow, Spiritomb no longer seemed angry about that. If anything, it appeared to be too tired to put up much of a fight. Either that or it finally realized Cynthia was serious about protecting it.

Cyrus could hear the police officers whispering to one another, but it wasn't in the international standard language.

Back when his grandfather was young, the United Regions worked together to create a standard set of rules and customs that would promote further friendship between nations. This included teaching an internationally-spoken language to all regions; promoting foreign exchange student programs; and even standardizing the rules for Pokémon battles and league challenges.

A country's friendliness toward foreigners could be measured by just how prevalent the international language was. Some tourist-friendly regions would post it predominantly, while some places more set in their ways would only offer to translate when requested. Regardless; all store clerks, civil servants, and members of the regional league had to be able to speak it: from Pokémon Center nurses all the way to the Champion.

When the police first showed up at the ruins, they'd ordered Cynthia and Cyrus to keep their hands visible and to get into the back of the car. Although they'd barked those commands in the international language, they switched back to their mother tongue the moment the doors closed.

 _Nyet_ (no) was probably the only word Cyrus recognized. Whatever conversation they were having, they didn't want him to understand it. "What's going to happen to us?" He hoped one of the officers would be polite enough to tell him. "We're first time offenders."

"You're foreign, too." The officer in the passenger seat turned around to face the back seat. His black eyes honed in on Cyrus. "Sinnoh, да?" Cyrus offered to give the officer his Trainer ID card, as well as his Metro Card, which the man quickly reviewed. "Ah. You're interning for Myrtle Tuscarora?"

"Yes, sir. We're tracking Pokémon migratory patterns for her and got distracted by some of the wild Pokémon in the ruins. It won't happen again. Not without a nocturnal permit."

The officer returned the card and gave a warmer, friendlier smile. "You're damn right it won't. Not after you spend a couple of nights in the gulag."

What!? No! Would they take his fingerprints and make him share a tiny space with a bunch of other men? _Adult_ men? Cyrus wasn't exactly a large boy, nor was he athletic. He had a tiny bit of muscle tone in his arms, but that came more from the repetitive motion of repairing household projects than actual exercise. There wasn't any strength to it; just a firm grip. And if those prison dramas his mother watched were anything close to accurate, that sort of "talent" would—

"That was a joke, comrade. You and your friend have nothing to worry about. People trespass into the Ædranos Ruins all the time. So long as you didn't vandalize or steal anything, it's not that big of a deal. Just don't do it again."

That…that honestly surprised him…

"Our Gym Leader, Comrade Morozov, has a reputation for being needlessly difficult. Since Plumbum City is the first gym in the Kinzo League Challenge, we receive more foreign tourists than any other Kinzonian city. Most of them don't wait for their Pokémon to come out of quarantine. They adopt Pokémon they have no intention of keeping, just so they can fight Simon and win a Lead Badge. Then they return those Pokémon to the shelter for someone else to use."

"That's terrible!" Cynthia piped up. The sudden noise caused Spiritomb to glow brighter. It was listening to this conversation. "If I find out anyone at the Trainers Lodge did that, I'll give them a piece of my mind!"

Cyrus was still too anxious to say much of anything right now. His whole face was burning.

"And then you have the idiots who break curfew and sneak into the ruins to look for Ghost Pokémon. Everyone knows Ædranos is haunted. Even Simon has claimed to see ghosts out there. Is that why you lingered? Did you get a bit caught up in catching that Spiritomb?"

"Spiritomb's wild," Cynthia corrected the officer. "I didn't catch it. I just wanted to save it from Team Sigma."

The car came to an abrupt halt. The officer who hit the brake took a deep breath and exhaled slowly: trying to calm himself down. "Wait. You mean to tell me _Team Sigma_ was out there!?"

The officer in the passenger seat let loose a grim chuckle. "I think we apprehended the wrong people, comrade. Wait until our captain hears about this…"

"They're criminals, aren't they?" Cynthia asked. "Like Team Rocket?"

She'd heard horror stories from friends who decided to continue their journeys in Kanto. Team Rocket was an organized crime syndicate focused on the trafficking and exploitation of Pokémon. They stole from other trainers and did all kinds of terrible things to innocent Pokémon.

"I wouldn't know. We don't have Team Rocket in Kinzo. I can tell you about Team Sigma, though. They're cyberterrorists mostly: data breaches, identity theft, government leaks…that sort of thing. They're broken down into three ranks: your Gamma foot soldiers, their Beta commanders, and one Alpha who presides over the whole syndicate."

The police car parked outside a station. Cynthia recognized it. "We're only two blocks from the Trainers Lodge, aren't we? We're staying there."

"Good. One of us can escort you back there after we're finished talking." The driver parked the car, still grumbling under his breath. "The people you ran into: what were they wearing?"

"Leather jackets, boots, turtlenecks, and khaki cargo pants," Cynthia stated, hoping that would be enough.

"They had a capital sigma on their belt buckles," Cyrus added. "Like the mathematical sum function."

"What color was the belt?" the officer asked. The lights were still on inside the police station. A handful of officers paced back and forth, trying to wrap up the end of their shift before it was too late into the night. "Yellow or Green?"

"Yellow," both said in unison.

"That's good news, at least. Yellow belts are Gammas. Most of them aren't very strong."

That was a relief to hear, but it begged the question: just how much stronger were these green-belted Betas? If they stayed in Kinzo, just how likely were they to run into these people again?

"We'll get the sketch artist in here to see if anything you give us matches anyone we're looking for. Hey, Elena!" A young lady in a uniform came closer. "Can you get some coffee for our guests? They ran into Team Sigma at the Ædranos Ruins."

"We have their names," Cyrus offered, hoping to be as useful as possible. Even though the officers already reassured him that he wouldn't be spending any time in a jail cell, he wanted to give them everything he knew. "They called themselves Natela and Avdantil." He'd be putting their faces to memory, too. "I can even jot down which Pokémon they used to battle us, including the nicknames."

Cynthia kept Spiritomb secure on her lap. The Pokémon wriggled around a bit, but her hands remained firmly on its stone. She just hoped she could calm it down enough to prevent a rampage. "Officer…Kuznetsov? Am I pronouncing that right?" The man nodded. "May I ask you an unrelated question? What purpose does the curfew serve?"

Officer Kuznetsov leaned back on the bench, though his large boot-covered feet remained firmly planted on the green and white-checkered tile. "That curfew's been in effect for a long, long time.

"The first Premier we elected, Sergei Vasiliev, used to be our Kinzo League Champion. He was also a decorated war hero and led the charge for our independence by pressuring our tsar to abdicate. We all thought he'd be the perfect person to lead our restored nation, but Vasiliev was a very paranoid man. He believed Kinzo could collapse at any time and that everyone was conspiring against him.

"Within his first year of office, he replaced some key elected officials with his Elite Four. One of them was even put in charge of the Kinzonian Secret Police. The KSP can interrogate anyone on Kinzonian soil without a warrant, and some of us think Team Sigma got their start there. They use a lot of KSP tactics to get what they want.

"Most abductions took place after dark. It's easier for the KSP to hide in the dark, and it takes longer for people to realize their friends are missing. And even if somebody saw something, it's much more difficult to identify a face in the dark. Sometimes, we would find a body a few days after someone filed a missing persons report. Other times, we'd find people who were still alive, but too delirious and scared to press charges.

"Eventually, the people grew tired of Premier Vasiliev's reign of terror. A group of brave young trainers joined forces and fought against him. By some miracle, they managed to get past not only his key people; but also Vasiliev himself. They chased him out of office and nobody's seen him since.

"We held an emergency election and put our current Premier, Richard Beauclair, in the seat. Things got better, but people still disappeared after dark. Premier Beauclair finally decided a curfew would help keep everyone safe. Now the only people on the streets at night either work for the Kinzonian government—like us—or they have special permits to be out.

"Most tourists don't understand why we have that curfew. They think it has something to do with our cold climate, or that we're trying to restrict their moments. It isn't that at all. That curfew exists because there are still a lot of Vasiliev sympathizers out there. The only way to be safe after dark is to stay behind locked, closed doors.

"Please, do yourselves a favor and don't break curfew again. You're Sinnohan. A lot of us still see your people as unwanted invaders. If the wrong person finds out you're from there, we'll be lucky if we find your corpses."

…

"We're lucky they let us off with just a warning, Cynthia. That could have been so much worse!"

"I know, but maybe Officer Kuznetsov and his partner will find the people who attacked us?" Cynthia's eternal optimism could be charming at points. Tonight wasn't one of those nights. "We told them everything we knew. You even listed the Pokémon we saw, all the way to their nicknames. Still… _Bidoofus, Bee-Bee,_ and _Guano Lisa?_ Really?"

Cynthia called Eevee out of his ball and began walking back to their shared private room. Spiritomb was still in her hands, having finally fallen asleep.

"Cynthia…" Cyrus took a deep breath. "What are you going to do about Spiritomb? Is it really safe to let a wild Pokémon sleep in our room?" At the ruins, that thing seemed all too eager to fight them. The only reason it hadn't was because it was too injured to fight, and Team Sigma interrupted. It was a creature filled with nothing but hate and resentment: hungry ghosts that would never find closure.

"I'll take it to a Pokémon Center first thing in the morning," Cynthia decided. "Then I'll see what Spiritomb wants to do. If it wants to return to Ædranos, I guess I can respect that. All its memories are tied to that place. Still, I don't like the idea of Team Sigma going after it again. As much as I want Spiritomb to be my Pokémon; that decision is Spiritomb's to make. I won't capture it by force."

"I see."

"I'm guessing the two of you aren't feeling too social?" Cyrus turned around to see the old Plumbum City Lodge Owner. "We'll be offering a nice Lopunny stew for dinner, if you and your friend are interested."

Considering what the coffee and nerves had done to his stomach, he decided to pass. No part of him felt hungry.


	15. An Old Familiar Face

The rest of the week was a blur. They followed the same routine: wake up, freshen up, eat a quick breakfast, make use of the Battle Room in the Trainers Lodge until their Pokémon were tired, hit the Pokémon Center, return to the Lodge for lunch, battle until dinner, let their Pokémon recuperate, and take the last few hours of the day to decompress.

Cynthia called her grandmother once to tell her how things were in Plumbum City, though that quickly turned into a rant about how the Gym Leader was cheating. Every unpleasant thing Cynthia had to say about Simon, Cyrus took note of. He'd learn from her mistake.

If Cynthia hadn't told him every sneaky move Simon pulled with her, he wouldn't have even bothered to capture a Zubat. Even so, Zubat would struggle if Simon called Bronzor out first. The best way to give both his Pokémon a fighting chance involved training them every day to the point of exhaustion.

Trainers Lodges offered more than just room, board, and free laundry. The basement level contained six Battle Rooms, which trainers staying at the Lodge could reserve for private matches. Each time one of those rooms became available, Cyrus requested to reserve it for Eevee and Zubat.

Even when Cynthia headed to bed around 9:00 PM, he'd finish up closer to 11:00 PM…and start the whole thing all over again at 4:00 AM. If Cynthia wasn't interested in training with him, he'd take whoever was available. That sometimes meant talking to the other trainers in the Lodge.

His first paycheck from Professor Myrtle wouldn't appear in his bank account for another four days. If he wanted money for Potions, Awakening, or other materials; he only had two options. Since he didn't want to ask Cynthia to spot him some money, the only other solution involved battling for prize money.

By now, he knew most of the other guests by their first names. Many of them were nice people and all too eager to share their life stories.

One older boy, Grigol, was from a small northern Kinzo town. He'd taken a semester off to take his ten-year-old sister Tamari across the region so she could gain some experience. The little girl was losing hope because Simon kept defeating her. Grigol insisted she had nothing to be ashamed of. He'd battled Simon twenty times before he finally earned his Lead Badge.

Cyrus's personal favorite was Renata: a silver-haired widow who called everyone "dear." For the past fifty years, she'd doted on her husband in Stannum City. He insisted he could work hard enough to provide for the both of them, so she stayed at home with their two children while he traveled across Kinzo. After the children were grown and her husband divorced her; Renata sold the house to fund a Pokémon journey. She never got to go on one in her youth; so retirement felt like as good a time as any to start.

And then there were a group of college-aged backpackers from Kanto. They traveled together because they believed in safety in numbers. They'd saved up all their earnings and decided to have one year's worth of adventure in Kinzo before returning to Saffron City. The fact they were stuck in Plumbum City spoke either to the level of their incompetence…or just how difficult Simon was.

' _If I lose, I'll keep training Zubat until he evolves,_ ' Cyrus decided. ' _If I can't defeat Bronzor's defenses with attacks, then I'll simply overpower it with experience._ ' Cynthia hadn't managed to get far enough to find out what the second Pokémon was, but a few people in the Lodge had.

"Can't sleep, can you?" Cyrus turned his head around to find one of the backpackers was there: a ginger-haired young man with a turned-up nose, braces, and a rather vibrant pair of green eyes. "There's no shame in that. Neither can I." Considering this guy was clutching a cup of black coffee in his green-mittened hands, Cyrus wasn't surprised. "I'm Isaac, from Saffron City. We battled earlier."

"I remember," Cyrus murmured, returning Zubat to its Poké Ball. "Your Machop's rather impressive." It had managed to make his Eevee faint, but performed abysmally against Zubat.

Isaac took this as an invitation to sit beside him. He held out a second cup of coffee, which Cyrus declined. "I'm pulling an all-nighter since I'm challenging Simon tomorrow afternoon. There's less competition for the Battle Rooms after dark. Most everyone just wants to settle in before the best beds get claimed. Not us. My friends and I paid too much money to fly out here just to waste our whole vacation in Plumbum City."

"There's always sight-seeing," Cyrus suggested. "Did you visit the Ædranos Ruins?"

"Yes," Isaac grumbled. "And the historic district. And Sweetmetal Academy. And the fancy parts of the ruins you have to pay extra to see. We even paid for a boat tour around Mt. Solarian to see if we could find any Fire Pokémon around the volcano, and you know what we found? Zip! Zilch! Nada! It's a shame, too. A Fire Pokémon would have been perfect against Simon's Bronzor."

"Did you ever get past it?"

"Simon's Bronzor?" the redheaded boy took a huge gulp of coffee and exhaled. Even indoors, his breath was visible from the cold. "No, but old lady Renata did. She told me what comes after it and it's an even bigger pain in the ass."

"Oh?"

"Simon has a Wobbuffet, and she knows Destiny Bond. Once you're down to your last Pokémon, he'll switch Bronzor out for Wobbuffet. If you knock the Wobbuffet out right after she uses that move, your Pokémon goes down with her."

"That's…" Cyrus could see the frustration on the backpacker's face. Isaac looked just about done with everything, but had sunk too much time and money into defeating Simon to give up. "I don't know whether to call that irritating or ingenious…"

In the end, he decided Simon Morozov was an irritating genius. This proved he not only had powerful Pokémon, but knew how to use them.

…

When Cynthia first proposed the idea of becoming Spiritomb's Pokémon Trainer, she'd expected it to launch its stone at her face or give her another telepathic tantrum. It hadn't been happy to see living people at the Ædranos Ruins, and she'd had to sweet-talk it the entire ride to the police station. When she took it to the Pokémon Center, it terrorized the nurses so badly that they refused to treat it again unless Cynthia brought it back in a Poké Ball.

But Spiritomb surprised her. As soon as she held out the empty ball, it knew what it was for. Its gaseous head nodded at her, and its green scowl turned into a smile. As malicious a creature as it was, it wasn't heartless. Spiritomb knew she'd fought Team Sigma to keep it safe. Cynthia even made sure it received medical treatment afterward.

If she could be that compassionate toward a wild Pokémon, Spiritomb wanted to see how she treated _her_ Pokémon. It tapped the button itself, allowing the capture to go through. And if this arrangement didn't work out, oh well. It was going to outlive her, anyway.

The ball felt cool in her hands as she skipped her way back to the Plumbum City Gym. Simon had graciously agreed to take her for a direct rematch, meaning she could bypass his Gym Trainers. All he needed to know was that she caught a second Pokémon. That was enough for him.

"Wait until he sees you," she whispered to Spiritomb's ball before giving it a quick kiss. "You're a real game-changer!" A tiny bit of purple fog wafted out near the button and touched her cheek. It was cold and made her shiver, but it didn't feel malicious.

' _I just wish I could have convinced Cyrus to come with me. It would be good for him to see how Simon fights._ ´ But he didn't. For the past few days, Cyrus seemed obsessed with the Battle Rooms. He only left long enough to sleep, shower, and eat. Cynthia was a bit worried about him and hoped this was just a passing phase.

Simon was precisely where Cynthia expected him to be: in the center of the gym. He sat patiently at a table, complete with two cups of tea, a newspaper, and his crystal ball. As soon as he heard her coming, he looked up and gestured for her to sit across from him. "It's good to see you again, Miss Cynthia. Before we battle, I'd like to talk briefly about your horoscope. Do you mind?"

"You're really into that sort of stuff, aren't you?" Cynthia chuckled and took a seat across from Simon. "And here I thought this was all just some sort of gimmick to make yourself look and sound more mystical than you actually are."

Simon frowned and fidgeted a bit with his monocle. Cynthia wouldn't admit it to the Gym Leader, but she liked the way he dressed. He reminded her of a stage magician who visited her old school. He'd pulled a Buneary out of a hat, made a card levitate, and even sawed a kid in half. They were all tricks of the trade, though: mere optical illusions rather than true magic. That was probably why she thought Simon was an actor, too.

But he seemed to take offense that she thought this. "I'm not putting on an act," he insisted. "I'm not even the only clairvoyant in my family. My grandfather was perhaps the most famous mystic in Kinzonian history. He even had an audience with the tsar! I _know_ your future, Miss Cynthia. I can see it quite clearly."

"So…" She'd try to be a little more polite. "What did the stars have to say about me this time? Did you still want to tell me?"

Simon finished his cup of tea, stood up, and gave the table a couple of taps to make it sink back into the floor. "You have a favorable alignment. If you plan to defeat me before April, your best chance will be today. Do you feel confident?"

Most people would say no, but Cynthia felt pretty comfortable with her team. She gave Simon her most bashful smile and nodded her head. "I even have a new Pokémon! I can't wait to show it off."

"If it's a Zubat, I'm rescinding my offer and making you battle my Gym Trainers. I can't stand those filthy things." Cynthia was about to ask him why, but Simon beat her to it. "Lots of trainers catch them in the ruins because they can learn Dark moves, but all they ever do is defecate all over my perfectly clean gym floor. Filthy flying Rattatas…"

A giggle slipped out of Cynthia's lips. It was probably rude to laugh, but she couldn't help it. "Do you have a preference for which side of the gym you want? I'm pretty flexible."

"For the most auspicious celestial alignment, you should face the east." Realizing Cynthia probably didn't know how to tell which way was east or west indoors, Simon pointed to his right. "The sun rises in your direction. It sets in mine. This is symbolic of our relationship as Gym Leader and challenger. Let's begin."

Just as he'd done before, Simon started the battle with Bronzor. The metal disc Pokémon hovered in the air and stared at Cynthia with its big yellow eyes. She waved at it politely and was surprised to see Bronzor felt friendly enough to spin in a complete circle.

' _It's in a good mood. It probably thinks it's going to win._ ' Cynthia smirked, reached in her back pocket, and threw Spiritomb's Poké Ball into the arena. Her excitement for this battle was so intense that she couldn't stop bouncing on the balls of her feet. She wanted to see the look on Simon's face once he realized what she managed to capture.

"Wait."

Instead of starting the battle, Simon called for a quick time out and stepped cautiously into the arena. He bent down to look at Spiritomb more closely and couldn't believe what he was seeing. He held out one of his arms, just to see if Spiritomb would do anything. The purple vapor that made up the Pokémon's face wrapped around his arm and slid all the way up to his face.

"Is this the Ædranos Spiritomb?" When Cynthia nodded her head, Simon's expression softened. He stared at Spiritomb like it was an old friend he hadn't seen in years. "I've met this Pokémon before. How did you—"

Spiritomb let loose a playful, ghoulish cackle. It wanted to battle.

Simon's dusky cheeks turned red and he backed away. "Alright. We can talk about that after the battle. I won't hold us up any longer."

"Spiritomb, use Confuse Ray!" A bright, radiant light blasted out of Spiritomb's face and hit Bronzor right between the eyes.

Bronzor's eyes spun around until it was dizzy. It had trouble concentrating on Simon, but gave him an apologetic glance. "No, no," Simon grumbled. "That won't do. Two can play this game, Spiritomb. Bronzor knows that same move. Bronzor!" One of its two eyes focused on its trainer. The other continued to wander around the arena floor. "Retaliate with Confuse Ray."

Both Pokémon on the floor were now confused, which would cause problems. "Hellooooo. Spiritomb? Psssst." Cynthia waved an arm at her Pokémon to get its attention. "Over here!" Spiritomb rolled its stone toward her and nearly attacked her. "No, no! Not me! I want you to use Feint Attack on Bronzor. Got it?"

Even though Spiritomb nodded to indicate it understood her, Cynthia had her doubts. It tossed its stone in the air and threw it at its own face: acting like it was attacking itself. Bronzor rolled closer, curious to see more of its opponent's silly display of self-flagellation. Just as it drew close enough to watch Spiritomb grimace, Spiritomb chucked its stone so hard at Bronzor that it left an ugly dent in its side.

Simon winced when he heard the sound. "Ouch, Bronzor. That sounded like it hurt. Hit Spiritomb with Confusion." Bronzor launched a weak telekinetic force at Spiritomb, which landed a perfect hit.

Spiritomb scrunched up its eyes and snarled at Bronzor. How dare it use such a weak attack?!

"Okay, Spiritomb! We've got Bronzor right where we want it! Use—Spiritomb? Hey! What are you doing!?"

Spiritomb had decided on its own that Bronzor deserved to be struck by another Feint Attack. It chucked its rock again, hitting Bronzor with enough force to cause it to spin out of control. Bronzor's eyes grew big as it whizzed around the gym. When it finally hit the ground, badly dented from the attack, it could barely hover.

"Bronzor!" Simon called out. "Are you still confused?" The Pokémon shook back and forth to indicate that while it was badly hurt from the assault, it had all its wits back. "Use Hypnosis, then!"

The attack missed. By this point, Spiritomb's laugh had escalated into a disturbingly human-sounding guffaw. "HEY!" Cynthia locked eyes with her Pokémon. It smiled at her, but she wasn't smiling back anymore. "What's gotten into you?! That was way too strong an attack for this battle! You could have permanently injured that Bronzor—or killed it!"

Taking Spiritomb along for this gym battle was a gamble. They hadn't battled together in the Trainers Lodge yet, so Cynthia didn't even know what level it was. Right now, it wasn't interested in following her commands. All it wanted to do was beat that Bronzor into submission. "Don't use—"

But it was too late. Spiritomb threw its rock at Bronzor with another Feint Attack. This time, Bronzor didn't make any effort to get up. It stayed down and internally prayed that Simon wouldn't bark any more orders at it.

Simon called Bronzor back. "I think you're starting to understand why that Spiritomb stayed wild for so long. Some part of it still remembers what it was like to be human. For all accounts and purposes, you're expecting a group of dead ancients to trust that you—a teenage girl from a foreign country—know better than they do. This isn't a Pokémon you can control with just badges, Miss Cynthia. You will have to earn Spiritomb's respect, too."

Without skipping a beat, Simon called out his last Pokémon: a Wobbuffet. Spiritomb hissed at her angrily and threw its rock again. Unfortunately, it came closer to hitting Cynthia than its intended target. The girl ducked just in time for the stone to hit the edge of the gym and crack further. Spiritomb shrieked in rage because it had accidentally hurt itself.

"Wobbuffet, use Safeguard."

"Wobba wobba!" Wobbuffet raised her arms up to create a barrier between any physical attacks and herself.

"Um…hey. Spiritomb?" The Pokémon leered at Cynthia and hissed for a moment, but then it seemed to remember they were on the same side. "I know you were hit with that Confuse Ray earlier. Are you still confused?" At first, Spiritomb squinted at Cynthia as though it didn't recognize her. A few seconds later, the spark of recognition returned to its eyes. It went back to smiling at her. "You're thinking clearly, then?" The smile grew bigger. "I'm glad. Can I ask you to use Hypnosis on Wobbuffet?"

Apparently, asking Spiritomb to do something was more effective than attempting to bark orders. It launched its purple fog directly at Wobbuffet and refused to leave her alone until the blue Pokémon fell asleep. Wobbuffet curled up into a ball and snored loudly. Every once in a while, Wobbuffet's tail twitched. When that happened, she started making angry noises and wriggled around in an attempt to reposition herself.

"Follow it up with Spite, please?" To her surprise, Spiritomb listened! Wobbuffet remained fast asleep, but the number of times she could use Safeguard had just dropped dramatically. "And how about a Feint Attack?"

It worried her a bit at just how much amusement Spiritomb seemed to get out of tormenting Simon's Pokémon with Feint Attack. What worried her even more was just how calm Simon was acting: like he was used to it! Spiritomb just kept pummeling Wobbuffet with the rock, over and over again, until—

"Counter." Wobbuffet's beady eyes squinted open just long enough to see Spiritomb was about to attack her. A split second before Spiritomb's next assault landed; Wobbuffet flipped around and slapped Spiritomb hard enough to knock it out of the arena and into one of the tarot card doors. Pieces of the stone fell apart.

Spiritomb shrieked like it was being tortured. The last scream sounded uncomfortably familiar: like a human being exorcised in a horror film. Cynthia ran toward it, but watched as the vapor part of her Pokémon started to retreat inside the rock. With that one move, Wobbuffet had almost knocked out her trump card.

"Phew!" Simon wiped a thick layer of sweat off his brow and took a moment to fan himself. "Did it faint?" When Cynthia took Spiritomb into her arms and shook her head, Simon exhaled in surprise. "It's certainly close, though! Wouldn't you agree?"

Yes, she would agree. That was why she switched Spiritomb out for Eevee. Maybe Eevee could finish Wobbuffet off, or at least soften her up. At most, Spiritomb only had enough energy for one more attack. Another hit and it would be out.

"I can't believe I got this close! I've never managed to—ahem. My apologies. I'm getting ahead of myself, aren't I? The match isn't over yet."

"That's right! And now I'm going to give Eevee a go at this. Eevee, come on out and use Tackle on Wobbuffet!"

Eevee rushed out of his Poké Ball and pranced into the center of the arena. He didn't recognize the Wobbuffet from last time, but he definitely remembered Simon. Even though Simon waved at him, Eevee wasn't feeling friendly. He lowered his ears, bristled up his tail, and hissed at the Gym Leader.

But Simon wasn't his opponent; _Wobbuffet_ was. Eevee rushed at Wobbuffet, head lowered. At the last possible moment, he jumped into the air and dive-bombed the blue Pokémon.

Wobbuffet didn't seem too fazed by it. Her scrunched-up face continued to frown judgmentally at Eevee. "Wobba wobba." She even pet Eevee on the head, as if to condescendingly tell him that he was doing a good job. Not great. Not excellent. Certainly not enough to win. Just _good_.

Simon seemed to be the giddy one now: like he had a secret he could barely contain. "Destiny Bond."

"WHAT?!"

Cynthia knew that battling a Wobbuffet could be an exhausting experience, but Destiny Bond had to be one of the cheapest moves a Gym Leader could possibly use in combat. One way or another, this match would be over in a few more turns. If Wobbuffet went down, Eevee was going to go down with her.

"Eevee, Tackle! Again!"

"Counter, Wobbuffet!"

"Sand Attack!"

"Destiny Bond!"

' _If Eevee goes down, I still have Spiritomb!_ ' Cynthia realized. ' _Its HP is really low, but it didn't faint. If Eevee can take this thing out, I win!_ ' Her heart pounded in her chest as she called for Eevee to tackle Wobbuffet another time.

That was all it took. When Wobbuffet fainted, Eevee followed shortly afterward.

"Phew! Talk about a close match!" Simon called Wobbuffet back and wiped his brow. "This one goes to you. I have no problem handing over a Lead Badge today. It's been a while, and wow…just… _wow_ …" Even after Cynthia took the badge, she noted Simon still had his hand out. She took it and gave him a firm, polite handshake. "You have no idea how much joy this battle has brought me. I've known that Spiritomb since I was young, but I've never defeated it. Not in all these years!"

"You came really close to doing that today, Simon. You're probably the toughest Gym Leader I've ever challenged. How did you meet my Spiritomb, though? Do you visit the Ædranos Ruins a lot?"

"Indeed, I do. I actually donate a quarter of my earnings to preserve the ruins. Growing up, a lot of children in our neighborhood treated Ædranos like a playground. We'd camp out, tell ghost stories, and sleep among the dead. I even had my first kiss out there."

Simon closed his eyes, and it was clear he was reminiscing about those days. When Cynthia explored the ruins; her tour guide had waxed philosophical, saying that it was entirely possible for people to fall in love with places just as easily as Pokémon or other human beings. It was clear Ædranos carried a special place in Simon's heart, too: like even just saying the name made his soul long to go back there.

"I lived at the top of the hill. If I wanted to sneak out of the house, all I had to do was open my window and go downhill. My parents fought a lot, especially after Premier Beauclair took over. They rarely noticed if one or all of us went missing, so my siblings and I would sneak out to go explore.

"When I was seventeen, my father was arrested and sent off to one of the eastern gulags. My mother died shortly afterward. We had an uncle in Ferrum Town who agreed to take us in, but I didn't want to go. Not until I walked through the ruins one last time and said my goodbyes.

"My little brother tagged along. Normally, I'd have told Arturas to stay at home; but we were about to leave. The ruins were just as much his as they were mine. I had no right to push him away.

"Shortly into our expedition, a Golbat chased him off and I got lost in the temple. Deep inside, I thought I heard a man screaming. I ran toward the noise, hoping my Bronzor and I could help whoever-it-was…but it wasn't a person. I was face to face with a Spiritomb.

"I was frozen in fear, but my brother managed to scare it off. We left for Ferrum Town the following day, and all I could think about was returning here to catch that beautiful monster. I completed the Kinzo League Challenge, passed my certification as a Psychic-type Elemental Specialist, and waited patiently for the Plumbum City Gym Leader to retire. I declined multiple offers in other cities because I didn't just want any Pokémon Gym. I wanted _this_ one.

"Once I returned to Plumbum City, I must have visited the ruins to look for Spiritomb at least once a week. It hates people. It's even been known to attack them. I've had to scare it off with my elite rematch team, just to protect some of the stupider tourists. I've also had to save it from poachers. A few months ago, there was one really persistent fellow from the Orange Islands. He kept breaking curfew and sneaking into the ruins at night. I had to call the police on him, and—ahem. Sorry. I went on a tangent…"

Simon took a moment to clear his throat. "Let me get back to the point I was trying to make. When I first realized you'd caught that Spiritomb, I had concerns. It's a vindictive, spiteful creature and has put many people in the hospital; but it seems to like you. I don't know _how_ you managed to win it over, but you did. Can you do me a favor?"

It was a lot to process. The man she battled today had known her Spiritomb for many years. Watching it leave with a girl he barely knew must have hurt him on a personal level. She was taking away something he'd spent most of his life trying to capture. "Sir, if I—"

"Just promise me you'll take good care of it." Simon's eyes were wet. His mouth moved, parting into a bittersweet smile. "If Spiritomb is happy with you; then I can be happy for it, too."


	16. The Stars Don't Care About You

**Author's Note: The memory that Cyrus shares in this chapter is actually the full premise of my complete one-shot** ** _Cause and Effect_** **. If you want to read that memory in full detail, you can find it among my completed works. Enjoy!**

 **In other delightful news, the amazingly talented barbwalken (go follow her Tumblr) has done some SUPER fantastic concept art of Simon, complete with his Bronzor and Wobbuffet! I wish I could post links to Fanfiction without them getting garbled, but I'm sure you can find it in her archive. Thanks again, Barb! You're a treasure!**

 **…**

"You're finally challenging Simon?" Cynthia spread another layer of cream cheese onto her toasted bagel, but otherwise gave Cyrus her full attention. A wicked little smile played on her lips: excited that her colleague finally felt confident enough to give this a go. "What time did you schedule for?"

"10:00 AM." It was the same slot Cynthia booked when she defeated him. "I think I know how I can beat him."

Cynthia blinked and leaned closer. Her smile was positively impish. "Oh, really? I thought you told me you've only ever defeated one Gym Leader."

"That's because I never got around to challenging any others, Cynthia. Having to hide your Pokémon from your parents because you're afraid they'll release them really limits your options."

"What?!" Her eyes grew wide. "You can't be serious! Your parents…they did that?!"

"Mmhmm. When I was ten, my classmates started leaving so they could go on their Pokémon journeys. Sometimes they'd come back long enough to tell us about their exciting new adventures and how much fun it was out there. Needless to say, I envied them."

Cyrus's steely eyes remained locked on Cynthia, which made her feel a tad uncomfortable. Her parents, Cecil and Selene, had supported her every step of the way. They even offered to hold onto her prize money so she wouldn't be a walking target for muggers and overly aggressive trainers. When she beat a Gym Leader, she'd call home and her parents would shower her with praise. Sometimes they'd even surprise her by calling the local PokéMart and buying care packages.

When she completed in her first junior tournament, they took some time off and flew out just to watch her battle. Even extended family—aunts, uncles, cousins—they'd all come for that. They made banners, waved them, and cheered excitedly when it was finally Cynthia's time to shine. She'd placed so highly in the finals that she was given the opportunity to spar one on one against Edwin Vershigora: the reigning Sinnoh Champion. Even though she lost to him in less than four moves, it was the greatest moment of her life.

"My parents still believe that letting children leave school to train Pokémon is an incredibly negligent, irresponsible thing to do. They say most children aren't mature enough to understand the concept of moderation. They become so excited over having Pokémon that they focus all their energy on training and neglect their studies. Many of them drop out and never go back, because let's face it. Being a successful trainer can be lucrative. If you're good at what you do, you don't need a diploma."

"I never thought about it like that." Cynthia took her remaining courses online, studied for exams late at night in Pokémon Centers and kept pace with the rest of her class remotely. As fun as Pokémon training was, the Shirona family insisted Cynthia's schoolwork was equally important. They wanted to see her attend college someday.

"Naturally, when I mentioned I wanted to give training a Pokémon a try, my parents refused to even consider it. That summer, they sent me to visit my grandfather for a few weeks. I applied for my license while I was up there, and he helped me catch my first Pokémon."

Cyrus's eyes were directed toward his food rather than Cynthia, but she still had an easy time reading his face. The way his brow furrowed, his eyes narrowed, and the way he kept slowing down to take deep breaths…she could tell this was a painful memory.

' _This is the most open he's been with me,_ ' she realized. ' _I thought we had a moment when his parents froze his accounts, but this…_ ' This was something very important to him: something that hurt now just as much as it did then…and he felt comfortable enough around her to tell her this.

With the frozen assets, Cyrus hadn't even seemed surprised: just resigned. It was like he'd already come to expect that sort of behavior. Cynthia's heart hurt for him, and she dreaded to hear where the rest of this story was going to go.

"My grandfather believed that a first Pokémon should be special, so he wanted to help me catch one. We spent an entire month looking for something worth my while and eventually captured a Beldum. I nearly broke my arm trying to catch it, but it was worth it. Before my vacation was over, my grandfather drove me to Oreburgh City so I could challenge the Gym Leader.

"When it was time to go home, I hid everything under my bed. The Coal Badge, the Pokémon: _everything_. I had so much stuff under there that I thought nobody would ever find them. I thought I'd pull them out again over winter break—or the next time my parents went away on a business trip—and train in secret.

"Two weeks before the new school year started, I couldn't find my Beldum's ball. I nearly tore my room apart trying to find it, but it wasn't there. I don't know _how_ my mother found it, but she took my Pokémon to work with her and released it."

Cynthia stared at Cyrus, her mouth wide open in disbelief.

"I dared to go behind her back. That's why she did it. I deliberately disobeyed. I was in the wrong and needed to be taught a lesson."

He'd heard those same words so many times that they'd lost their effect. Already, he could feel himself becoming desensitized to Nichole's chronic disappointment. When Cyrus was younger, disappointing his parents upset him greatly. Now he realized that even his best work would never be enough. There would always be something about him worthy of criticism and scorn.

Cynthia had heard enough. She slammed both hands to the table, causing a bit of tea to splash out of her mug. The syrup holder for the pancakes fell over, though both Eevees decided to make quick work of the spilled contents. "You can rationalize your mother's actions all you like, but that doesn't excuse what she did! Not in the slightest!"

But it wasn't lost on her that Cyrus tensed up when she raised her voice. This wasn't fair! He didn't deserve to be treated like that! She was about ready to ask for his mother's phone number, just so she could give that woman a piece of her mind.

"She had no right to do that," Cynthia insisted, her voice returning to something softer and easier to hear. "I can't imagine growing up with a mother like yours. She sounds horrible."

It was all she could do to hold in her emotions. She wanted to cry, to scream, and to reach out and hug Cyrus; though she suspected he wouldn't appreciate any of those things. "My family is nothing like that. They've always encouraged me to follow my dreams. They love me and want to see me pave my own path. Yours—"

By now, she knew Cyrus sneaked out of the house and flew to Kinzo without telling his parents. She was starting to understand why. If she'd grown up with a mother like Mrs. Akagi, she'd have probably done anything to get away from her, too.

Cyrus stood up, took the empty pieces off Cynthia's breakfast tray, and placed them onto his own. "I told you that in confidence. Please don't repeat that to anyone."

"No. No, of course not…" Cynthia tried to wish her friend good luck for the match; but he was already halfway across the Trainers Lodge, gearing up to make his appointment with Simon.

…

It took a while to catch up to Cyrus on the street, but Cynthia managed. The snow was so heavy outside that it almost came up to her knees. Only the tips of her poor Eevee's ears could be seen above the walls of sparkling white. The streets were already cleared and salted, but she didn't want to risk putting herself into oncoming traffic.

"Hey! Look, about breakfast—"

"I don't want to talk about that anymore." Cyrus adjusted his sunglasses. A heavy snowstorm hit the city overnight: covering all of Plumbum City in a bright, reflective layer of white. Without the sunglasses, the sun's reflection on the snow hurt his eyes. He was surprised Cynthia hadn't invested in a pair, too. "Is that why you're following me?"

"No! I'm tagging along because I want to watch your match." Just once, Cyrus needed to have someone in his corner: somebody who would cheer him on in a fight, rejoice with him when he won, and commiserate with him if he lost. Cynthia still wasn't sure if Cyrus viewed her as a friend; but he wouldn't have opened up to her like that if he hated her, right? "Is that okay?"

"I'm not going to stop you from following me into the gym," Cyrus decided, "but I do have one condition if I make it to Simon."

"Okay. What do you want?"

"If I lose, I don't want to hear _I told you so_. I get enough of that at home."

"You honestly think I'd—no way! I'd never do that!"

"Nor will we, dear." Cynthia and Cyrus both turned around, wondering who had spoken up.

To their surprise, nearly a dozen trainers from the Lodge had followed them to the Plumbum Gym, with old lady Renata leading the charge. "You've spent so much time training with all of us these past few days. We wanted to offer our moral support and wish you the best of luck against Simon Morozov."

"That's right!" Isaac chimed in. "And don't worry! If you lose today, it's no big deal. We've all been there."

Renata cleared her throat, letting loose a quick _ahem_. "Yes, dear. That may be true; but let's not jump to any conclusions. For all we know, Cyrus may get lucky." Considering she always wore pumps, it took a while for her to move. When Cyrus realized the old woman was approaching him, he walked a bit closer to make it easier for her. "I have something for you, young man."

"A good luck charm?" Cyrus asked. "Thanks, but I don't exactly believe in that sort of thing." But Renata just shook her head and held out an Awakening. "…oh. Right. Because Bronzor knows Hypnosis…"

Cynthia's entire face was turning pink. She kind of wished she had sunglasses in that moment so no one would notice she was almost on the verge of tears. This was quite possibly the sweetest thing these trainers could have done! They were all coming together as a community to support one of their own. And the message they sent across was one she was certain Cyrus had desperately needed to hear: that win or lose, these people would still be there for him.

"So…" Renata smirked and gave Cyrus a light nudge in the side. "What's the plan?"

"Yeah!" a school-aged girl with pink pigtails piped up. "Can we help?"

"I…" Cyrus never liked being the center of attention. These people meant well, but he was starting to feel anxious. "I only need two things from everyone: your silence and your discretion." Before he could even explain what he meant, Cyrus continued walking ahead.

But Cynthia took note of which Poké Ball he had in his hand. She knew what Eevee and Zubat's Poké Balls looked like. To make it easier to tell the balls apart, Cyrus had placed a small, different-colored dot on each ball. Zubat's was dark blue. Eevee's was gold. This one was magenta. "Wait! Cyrus! When did you find the time to catch a—"

"Ah. Here we are." Cyrus opened the Plumbum City Gym's thick hardwood doors and held them open for the whole group. "Let's get this over with."

…

The central arena was every bit as gaudy as Cynthia, Isaac, and the others said it was: the tarot doors, the crystal ball, the fake stars sparkling on the walls like some avant-garde planetarium…Cyrus hated it almost half as much as he'd hated the defeatist, cynical personalities of every Gym Trainer he'd battled just to get to Simon.

"Aaaaah! Miss Cynthia. What a pleasant surprise! What brings you back?" Simon sat at the center table, pretending to see something within his crystal ball. "You bested me yesterday, dear. Very few people come back after that. Are you here to talk more about Spiritomb and the ruins?"

Cynthia smiled politely and shook her head. "No, sir. I'm here to cheer for my friend. In fact, I'm pretty sure half the Trainers Lodge decided to come with me. I'd like you to meet Cyrus Akagi: my research partner."

"Hm…" Simon's dark eyes scrutinized the boy, looking him over from head to toe. "Normally, the stars tell me when a challenger is worth my while. _You_ , though…?"

"I doubt a bunch of burning balls of hot gas have anything to say about me, Simon. Or anyone else, for that matter."

Cynthia was sure Cyrus meant that to sound less sarcastic than it came out, but it tickled her funny bone anyway. She snickered and made her way to the spectator seats. "I'll let you two sort this out. I'm just here to watch. Come on, everybody!"

Simon put his hands to his hips and stood up, pacing around the arena. "The stars have _plenty_ to say, young man. They just haven't deemed you important enough to be worthy of my time! You're lucky I agreed to go against my horoscope and meet you at all!"

"I'm flattered. Truly." Cyrus couldn't have sounded more deadpan if he tried. "Shall we begin, then?"

"Hm hm. Yes…yes, indeed." The crystal ball's podium retracted. The tarot card doors lifted so other participants could find seats to watch.

The Gym Trainer Cynthia talked to last time chose to sit beside her, though her disinterested hazel eyes remained fixed on the battle. "This will be bad," the girl informed her. "He hasn't challenged Simon before. _Nobody_ beats a Morozov on the first try."

"I think Cyrus can. He's worked very hard for this and I believe in him," Cynthia whispered back. "Why not make a friendly wager? I bet he wins. If I'm wrong, I'll give you half the Potions in my bag. If I'm right, you and your friends have to let every other challenger this week go directly to Simon. No more having to go through the rest of you."

Cyrus wasn't the only one who had talked to the other trainers in the Trainers Lodge. Cynthia was all too aware of how tired everyone was of Simon Morozov. They wanted to get to Kalium City and challenge the next Gym Leader, Jet Melkadze, as soon as possible.

"Tch!" The girl rolled her eyes and swatted the air in front of her. Her face looked smug and completely certain of her superior's impending victory. " _Someone's_ overly confident."

"Maybe so, but Cyrus is the most patient guy I know. You need patience to win against Simon, don't you? Maybe that's why you lost." At least the girl shut up after that.

Without any sort of announcement, Cyrus called out his first Pokémon. Zubat flapped its wings excitedly, snarling and growling in Simon's direction.

Simon groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh joy. A Zubat. If someone paid me each time a trainer threw one of those filthy things into my arena… _whatever_. Go, Bronzor. I don't care."

"Astonish." Cyrus wasn't going to waste any time with commands. This wasn't a double battle. He didn't have to tell Zubat which Pokémon to hit. It was going to understand him with just a word or two. The faster the commands came out, the greater chance he had of getting the first move.

The move was super effective. Bronzor shivered afterward, visibly shaken by the attack. It stared worriedly at Simon, awaiting its orders.

"I've seen that move a million times before. No matter. Hypnosis, Bronzor."

' _Oh no…_ ' Cynthia bit her lip and fought back the urge to smack Simon when he started laughing. Zubat hit the ground with an uncomfortable thud, letting loose a light nasal sound as it snored. It was sound asleep. ' _Renata gave you an Awakening, Cyrus! Use it! All you'll waste is one turn!_ '

"Confusion!" Simon's voice boomed across the arena. Lights flashed all across the room. In its sleep, Zubat wriggled around and squeaked in pain, but he didn't wake up.

' _What are you doing!? Wake up your Zubat!_ ' But she'd promised not to intervene in any part of this match. If Cyrus wanted to do this on his own and learn the hard way, then so be it, but—

"Again, Bronzor! Another Confusion!"

Zubat thrashed around even more than before, flapping his wings pitifully as the attack landed another super effective hit. This time, however, he finally managed to wake up.

The split second Zubat seemed lucid enough to understand commands again, Cyrus gave a quick order. "Bite." That was the whole reason he'd caught Zubat in the first place. Dark moves, like Bite, were effective against Bronzor's Psychic type.

To everyone's surprise, that one attack was enough to knock Bronzor out. "What the—" Simon's eyes grew so wide that he nearly dropped his monocle. He was finding it near impossible to process what just happened. Once it finally dawned on him that Bronzor fainted, he pointed an accusatory finger at Cyrus. "What level is your Zubat?!"

"High enough to defeat your Bronzor, apparently," Cyrus quipped back. "Don't worry. You'll have your answer once you call out your Wobbuffet."

"What the fuck, man!? _That's_ his trump card?!" A large, husky boy grabbed onto Isaac's shirt sleeve and tugged on it. "He's got a freaking—" Renata cleared her throat and gave the boy a disapproving glare. He shut up, realizing he needed to watch his language.

"Tch!" Simon wasted no time and threw his Wobbuffet's Poké Ball into the arena.

"Wobbuwobbuwooooooobb!" the blue Pokémon announced, saluting the arena. Out of politeness, the Gym Trainers lightly applauded Wobbuffet's noisy entrance. The spectators from the Trainers Lodge weren't as polite. Isaac and his backpacker buddies made a particularly rude gesture at her with their hands. Once again, Renata had to glare at them to make them stop.

Most everyone complained about the fact Bronzor came first, just on account of how high its defense was. The people who actually got far enough in a battle to witness Simon's Wobbuffet warned their friends about her. This was the part of the match Cyrus was most excited for.

Cynthia could see him taking deeper breaths and trying to keep his composure, but there was something else going on that she understood all too well. ' _There it is! The adrenaline rush from a good match!_ ' And as soon as he spoke, she understood why:

"Confuse Ray."

The whole room gasped. That meant Cyrus's Zubat was at least at Level 21! Even Cynthia had to take a moment to let that sink in. He'd used the Battle Rooms every chance he got, even at odd hours of the night and the dead of morning. He'd battled both Pokémon until they were exhausted, especially Zubat.

' _One more level,'_ she realized, ' _and he's going to have a Golbat he can't control—even if he wins this match._ ' The first badge in any Pokémon League Gym was enough to boost a Pokémon team's morale so long as they kept winning; but trainers needed two badges to get any Pokémon under Level 30 to listen to them all the time.

' _He went too far! There's no guarantee it's going to obey him!_ ' She'd warn Cyrus about that later, just in case Zubat started becoming impossible to control. They weren't a friendly species. They could turn nasty.

But Zubat had listened. Wobbuffet wandered around the arena, holding her head and muttering her name under her breath like a slew of curse words.

"Wobbuffet…" Simon's voice had taken on a tone of warning. "Mirror Coat."

"Wobbuwobb?" She didn't understand. The Pokémon stared at her master in confusion and then punched herself in the face. Simon's face turned the color of a strained beet.

"I'm fairly sure I won't even have to use this," Cyrus jeered, holding up the Poké Ball with the magenta mark. "Bite, Zubat."

"Safeguard!" Simon yelped, praying Wobbuffet heard and understood him in time.

He was losing his composure with each attack. Luckily for Simon, Wobbuffet was still lucid enough to use the defensive move. Once her confusion wore off, Zubat wouldn't be able to use an effective Confuse Ray again for five turns. Still, Wobbuffet cried when the Bite landed because of how badly it hurt.

"Bite," Cyrus ordered again. Zubat let loose an angry hiss and lunged for Wobbuffet. Its teeth were like little needles, eager to dig into flesh and draw more blood.

"COUNTER!" Simon's angry yell resonated through the arena. Every sidebar conversation in the room came to a halt because everyone was transfixed by what they saw. They were literally watching a Gym Leader deconstruct in real time. Simon was falling apart.

Wobbuffet was no longer confused. She was hurt, angry, and ready to give Zubat everything in her arsenal. When the Counter hit, it was hard enough to knock Zubat completely out. He twitched for a moment, which gave Cyrus false hope that his Pokémon could still be resuscitated with a Potion, but it didn't work. He'd fainted.

"You're playing a dangerous game, boy!" Simon warned. "Even if you do beat me, that Pokémon won't listen to you for much longer. It's a miracle it did so for this long. So go on. Send out your next Pokémon!"

"Go, Eevee." He wasn't terribly enthused about this part, but he had no other choice. "Sand—"

"COUNTER!"

"…Attack."

Cyrus could take his time with commands for a while. So far, Wobbuffet had used Counter (which would only deal damage if Eevee used an offensive attack) and Safeguard (which only protected it from poisoning, sleep, burns, freezing, confusion, or paralysis). Now came time for the waiting game, just to see if Simon would call his bluff.

"Sand—"

"COUNTER!"

"Are you ever going to let me finish? Sand Attack." Counter failed again. And again. And again.

"Simon!" one of the Sweetmetal Academy students called out to Simon. "Sir, Wobbuffet's Safeguard is no longer in play! You used too many turns!"

"Gaaaaaah!" Simon tugged at his hair so tightly that a few strands came out when he let go. "SAFEGUARD!"

Cyrus simply shook his head, watching this patiently. "You're tired of the Sand Attack by now, aren't you?"

"OH MY GOD! _YES_! STOP ALREADY! YOU'RE DRIVING ME CRAZY!"

"I know you're hiding an ace move in your Wobbuffet," Cyrus remarked. "Why don't you have her use Destiny Bond and be done with it already?"

"I can't risk that so early in this battle! You have a third Pokémon!" Simon hissed, pointing accusingly at Cyrus's belt. "Do you honestly think I'm impatient enough to waste my Wobbuffet's trump card against your—"

"Tail Whip, Eevee."

"SAFEGUARD!"

Most of Simon's challengers lasted fewer than eight turns. Cyrus's battle continued another ten, twelve, sixteen…seventeen turns. Simon repeatedly tried to get Wobbuffet to use Counter, only for Cyrus to order more Sand Attacks and Tail Whips to decrease the Pokémon's accuracy and defense.

"We can keep this up until the heat death of the universe, if that's really what you want. I have an Ether in my bag. I can spray Eevee with it and keep the stat attacks coming; but I don't think I'll need to resort to that. By now, your Wobbuffet couldn't hit the wide side of a barn. So go on. Use Destiny Bond. You're about to lose anyway, so—"

"HOW DO YOU THINK YOU ARE, TALKING TO ME LIKE THAT!? WOBBUFFET! SAFEGUARD!" Wobbuffet was roaming around the arena, trying to find Eevee…and ended up slapping her flippers against Simon's thigh by mistake. "No, Wobbuffet! I want you to—"

"Eevee." Here it came: the _coup de grace_. "Quick Attack."

' _It's at least at Level 22!'_ Cynthia almost gasped, but managed to cover her mouth in time. She did, however, hear Renata chuckle behind her. _'What kind of insane training regimen is Cyrus—_ '

That's all it took. With Wobbuffet's defenses down, she stood no chance. One pounce from that hyperactive Eevee and Simon's final Pokémon was down for the count. The spotlight in the arena left Simon and turned to his opponent.

The entire stadium broke into applause. Although the Gym Trainers were silent, the trainers who came from the Plumbum City Trainers Lodge clapped and cheered so hard that Cynthia suspected some of them were going to cry. Their applause broke into a loud roar, chanting Cyrus's name over and over.

But Simon wasn't a good sport about losing. Not today.

"You cheated somehow! Your friend completed two other Pokémon League challenges, which means she already has sixteen badges. Did she loan you one, just to get your over-trained Pokémon to listen to you? Hm? Is _that_ what you did?!"

Although Simon's Gym Trainers tried to block him from grabbing Cyrus, he shoved past them and grabbed the boy by the shirt collar. "Take off your coat and open your wallet! I want to make sure you aren't packing a—"

"Here!" Cynthia snapped, throwing her wallet at Simon. It landed at his feet. All sixteen Sinnoh and Unova badges fell to the ground, glittering and catching the artificial celestial light. "If you don't believe me, then count them yourself! Get your hands off my friend and give him his Lead Badge!"

"Yeah!" Isaac chimed in. "Cyrus earned it fair and square!"

Cynthia rushed down the stairs, ready to collect her old badges, but looked up in time to see Simon begrudgingly surrender a sparkling new Lead Badge to Cyrus.

"This is unheard of," Simon kept grumbling under his breath. " _Completely_ unheard of! Losing to a first-timer with virtually no league experience to his name? Feh! Why, I would have seen something like that in the stars!"

"You said it yourself," Cyrus replied firmly, pinning the badge to his wallet. "The stars don't care enough about me to tell you anything."

"What was your last Pokémon?" Simon asked. "Now you have me curious. It must have been quite a Pokémon if you kept daring me to waste Wobbuffet's Destiny Bond."

"You'll never find out," Cyrus assured Simon before walking past him, all so he could help Cynthia grab the last of her scattered badges. "And you owe all my friends a detour-free rematch. They'll all go directly to you." Whatever Simon said next, he wasn't paying attention.

"I can't believe you did that!" Cynthia whispered, trying not to laugh. "That Poké Ball—"

Cyrus tossed the third ball over to her. Cynthia didn't even have to open it to know it was empty. When she looked up, she could tell her friend was smirking. This was the first time she'd ever seen his mischievous side, not that she was complaining one bit.

"Did I cheat?"

"No, Cyrus; but…look. I'm not saying what you did was _wrong_. I'm just saying it was a little underhanded…"


	17. Last Hurrah in Plumbum City

"My Eevees did _that_ well?! That's incredible news!"

Cyrus had never seen Professor Myrtle in such high spirits before. Typically on morning calls, she wanted to keep things quick, short, and to the point. She also tended to prefer hearing those reports from Cyrus since his voice was lower and softer than Cynthia's. Myrtle once told Cynthia that her voice made her migraines worse; but Cyrus suspected it was because Cynthia tended to crank up the volume whenever she got excited.

Today, Myrtle was clearly in a good mood. Her brown eyes seemed to shimmer, at least from certain angles. "What level are my babies at now?"

"I don't know about Cynthia's Eevee, but mine's at Level 23. You'll be pleased to hear he defeated Simon's Wobbuffet all by himself."

He wasn't going to tell her about the empty Poké Ball prank. He'd have plenty of opportunities to tell (and retell) that story downstairs. Cyrus got the feeling every trainer in the Lodge wanted to hear it, even though half of them had been there to see it. For the half that hadn't shown up, he privately hoped Cynthia would tell them while he was up here.

While he appreciated having so many people watch and support him during that fight, being the center of attention made Cyrus very uncomfortable. With all those eyes watching him, it meant more people would notice when he inevitably screwed up.

"Just be careful about overtraining them," Myrtle warned. "Even after you beat Jet, a Potassium Badge will only guarantee that Pokémon up to Level 30 will listen to you. You'll be in good shape once you defeat him, but you'll want to waste no time in challenging Kai and George. Pokémon can turn defiant, especially if they haven't bonded with you. Does Eevee seem to like you?"

"I think so."

Unless he planned to battle someone, Cyrus typically left Eevee out of his ball. The Pokémon followed him like a shadow and constantly butted his head against the boy's leg in search of treats, pets, and attention. Eevee was willing to put up with just about anything, so long as Cyrus let him sleep in the bed.

At night, Eevee crawled under the covers and snuggled up to his human for warmth. As weird as it felt the first time Eevee nestled against his chest, Cyrus didn't push him away. The extra warmth at night was all too welcome. He just wished Eevee focused more on his feet. They always felt like blocks of ice in the morning.

"I remember when Campanella battled Simon last year." Myrtle chuckled, twisting a piece of navy blue hair around her finger. "She said she was tempted to drag Wobbuffet by the tail and bash Simon upside the head with it because he was…ahem… _such an annoying prick_."

He'd have to share that one with Cynthia later. She'd find that funny. "That sounds like Campanella, alright…" The prize money he'd won from Simon was a rather hefty sum. At least he could live comfortably without having to worry about his expenses for a while.

"Are you taking the Metro to Kalium City; or are you taking today to say goodbye to your friends in the Lodge?"

Cyrus wasn't sure if he'd count the other trainers as friends, but most of them seemed to like him. At the very least, they were appreciative of how he'd handled Simon. Thanks to him, the Plumbum City Gym lost every other battle for the remainder of the day. Each battle left Simon more frustrated than the last, which caused him to make more mistakes.

Twenty Lead Badges were won that day and Cyrus was the catalyst. Grigol's little sister, the backpackers, Renata, and the others were finally able to continue their journeys; but they wanted to throw a party first. Today, Cyrus wasn't background noise or simply Cynthia's associate. He was everyone's ray of hope, and he wasn't entirely sure how he felt about that.

"We're saying our goodbyes and throwing a party tonight. Cynthia's calling Campanella to see if she wants to come." He was fairly sure she would. She'd been AWOL the entire trip to Plumbum City. "I'm thinking about giving my mother a call, too, just to give her the good news." Nichole had a very low opinion of Pokémon Trainers, but maybe she'd be proud this one time. If Cyrus told her just how difficult Simon was, and how he was the first newcomer to defeat him on his first try…that was worthy of a little bragging, right?

"We'll leave first thing in the morning, Professor Myrtle. I'll try to book an appointment with the Kalium Gym as soon as we're settled at the Trainers Lodge." And he knew the name and face of that Gym Leader already. Every time Cyrus stepped into the Metro, he heard Jet Melkadze's deep voice and saw his handsome face. Jet was the first Kinzonian he'd ever seen.

Cyrus was curious to find out what kind of a man Jet was in person, versus his artificially friendly broadcasted persona. Knowing this region, there was no telling.

"You and Cynthia are making incredible time! I was afraid you'd waste a whole month in Plumbum City." Myrtle didn't even bother to hide the relief on her face. "I'm glad you persevered, but this does mean I have to correct something I told you. Remember when I said the nocturnal passes would be waiting for you in Kalium City?"

"I'm guessing we did so well here that it might be _Hydrargyrum_ City before we get them?" How annoying.

"It's not my fault, kiddo! It takes about a month to get all that paperwork approved! The Kinzonian government doesn't just hand nocturnal passes out to anyone who wants them, you know."

"Considering what the curfew's for, that doesn't surprise me." His words seemed to surprise Myrtle. "We, er…we talked to some police officers a few days ago. They told us why Kinzo has a curfew."

"Ah, I see. You'll sometimes see people at night, but they're mostly delivery people. They have to sign a whole slew of waivers before they're allowed to work those hours. Your type of pass is even harder to obtain. We can wrap up this call fairly soon, but I have to ask. Have you or Cynthia caught any other Pokémon? It's been a while since either one of you uploaded any PokéStat information."

"Cynthia caught a Spiritomb at the Ædranos Ruins and I caught a Zubat. Beyond that, there hasn't been much of anything out here."

"A _Spiritomb_? My, my! It almost sounds like you two don't need my Eevees anymore!"

Shit. He was afraid she'd say that. "I couldn't have defeated Simon without your Eevee. Is there any chance I could hold onto him for at least another town?" He could already feel himself starting to grow attached. That Eevee was just so nice.

Myrtle smiled knowingly. "Cyrus, my Eevee can accompany you all the way to Ferrum Town. Until you win your fourth badge, the government won't permit you to go anyplace other than the cities with Pokémon gyms. After you defeat George, you can go anywhere. That's when I'll need Eevee back. It's much too dangerous out there and he's far too delicate. You can pass that message along to Cynthia, too. Eevees don't come cheap and they're a royal pain to breed."

"Yes, Professor. I understand."

"Was there anything else? My favorite soap opera is about to start, so…"

"Don't let me keep you. Enjoy your TV program."

"Have fun with your friends tonight! Bye!" The transmission shut off, turning the video into nothing but a deep blue analog screen. **PLEASE DIAL NOW** appeared in thick white letters, flickering slightly up and down.

Downstairs was getting noisier. Cyrus could hear laughter, shouting, and even the occasional sound of something breaking. Once or twice, he heard his name thrown into a conversation. If he wanted to make another call, he'd need to make it quick. Good thing his mother wasn't much of a talker.

As Cyrus pushed the buttons and heard the dial tone, he could barely contain his excitement. Today, he'd prove to Nichole that coming to Kinzo wasn't a mistake. If the Lead Badge in his hand wasn't enough physical proof of his success, he'd quiet down so she could hear the trainers in the background. The entire Trainers Lodge was talking about him: each with pride in their voice.

The dial tone looped for nearly a full minute before Nichole's face appeared in black and white on the videophone screen. "Well…" Her smile was barely noticeable, but Cyrus could see it. " _This_ is a pleasant surprise. I didn't think you'd actually call me."

Of all times for his heart to crawl into his throat, why did it have to be now? Cyrus tried to talk, but it took him a moment. ' _Why am I nervous? It's not like I called to tell her I failed. I actually did something! I—_ '

"How are you?"

"Fine!" There. _Finally_. "Everything's fine, Mother. It's…" Cyrus took a moment to clear his throat and held out his left hand. "Do you know what this is?"

Nichole put on her horn-rimmed glasses, leaned closer to the screen, and squinted. "A badge?"

"It's a Lead Badge," Cyrus explained. "It means I defeated the Plumbum City Gym Leader." That didn't seem to mean anything to her. Nichole didn't comment or ask any questions. All she did was sit there and patiently wait for an explanation. "My research partner completed two other league challenges. She said that this man was the toughest Gym Leader she's ever faced. It took her two battles to beat him, and she's lucky. Some of the other trainers in the Lodge told me that it's normal to battle Simon fifteen to twenty times before you win."

"Ah." He may as well have told her the sky was blue. "I see."

"Do you know how many rematches I needed to beat him?"

Nichole closed her eyes for a moment. They were already starting to gloss over from disinterest. "I don't know, son," she sighed. "Just tell me."

"None. I beat him on the first try!"

"…that's nice, dear."

 _Nice_? Was that all she had to say!? All of Cyrus's anxiety from earlier was quickly turning into despondence. Much too late, he realized Nichole didn't care about any of this. She was only listening in some half-assed attempt to be polite.

"I set a new record. Nobody has ever managed to do that before. We're having a party tonight to celebrate. Everyone's happy for me." So why couldn't Nichole be happy, too? This was an accomplishment: an impressive achievement! "Didn't Dad challenge a few leagues? Do you know if the Kinzo League was one of them?"

"I don't know." Nichole's answer was quick and flat. "Considering how much trouble your father's Pokémon have caused, I try to avoid talking about battling at home. We didn't want you getting any ideas; but here we are. You're supposed to be collecting data for one of the finest names in Pokémon academia…and you're battling. Is Professor Myrtle paying you to play with your Pokémon?"

"No. I just—"

"Enjoy your party. I have to go." The transmission was cut.

Cyrus tried to dial Nichole again, but she didn't pick up. The change just slid out of the machine and back into his hand. He needed a moment to calm down: to collect himself before he went downstairs. The last thing he wanted was to kill the mood for everyone else. They were so happy tonight, and it was all because of him. If they realized he no longer shared that joy…what then?

At least he had enough restraint to hold back his feelings. As much as he wanted to cry or explode in a sea of profanities, he didn't. All he did was punch the monitor and skulk out of the booth.

He didn't even have to go downstairs to hear the approaching pandemonium. Every trainer who had stayed in the Plumbum City Trainers Lodge for the past week wanted to come back for the celebration and swap stories about how they finally bested Simon. Cyrus could hear laughter, shouting, and even the occasional sound of something breaking.

Yet somehow, floating atop the sea of noise, he could still make out Cynthia's laugh from another videophone booth. He knew she'd called Campanella earlier to give her the news, but she sounded much too chummy to still be on the phone with that rude, rancorous woman.

"It was karma at its finest," he heard her say, leaning into the phone. "I really wish you could have seen it. I was so happy for him."

' _Is she_ _talking about me?_ ' Cyrus knew it wasn't right to eavesdrop. He should have grabbed his things, headed downstairs, and socialized with the other tenants; but he wanted to hear more. Cynthia didn't seem to notice he was only a few meters away.

"It sounds to me like you've made a new friend," an older female voice remarked. He didn't know that voice. "I'm sure he appreciated having you there to watch the match. Sometimes a little support makes all the difference."

"I know…" And like that, all the mirth and merriment left Cynthia's voice. Something more mature, pensive, and all too aware of Cyrus's situation came out next. It almost sounded like pity. "And from what he's told me about his life before the internship…"

Hadn't he told her not to share that with anyone? To keep his personal affairs private?! A tiny knot behind his lungs felt like it was being boiled, but he took deep breaths to calm that down. He saw what anger could do to people, and no part of him wished to emulate his father.

' _I'll just talk to her later,_ ' he decided. ' _And I'll_ _remind her that I asked her not to advertise my hardships to anyone…_ '

"Tell him we'll adopt him!" the woman joked, laughing. "He's certainly shrewd enough to be one of ours! That empty Poké Ball trick sounds like something _I_ would've done!"

The worst part of all was that he heard Cynthia laugh at that. "Grandmother, _nooo…_ "

There was no point in sticking around to hear the rest of that conversation. Hearing any more would only further piss him off.

…

Cyrus wasn't entirely sure what was in the plastic cup Isaac gave him, but he accepted it without hesitation. A part of him privately hoped there was alcohol in it.

Neither one of his parents drank, not even on business trips. Nichole said it brought out the worst in Alexander. As for herself, she'd never acquired a taste for it. In college, she was always the designated driver. Her life consisted of nothing but bitter teas, diet sodas, and weird murky drinks that were supposed to replace meals.

The only relative Cyrus knew drank was his grandfather. During their one-on-one visits, he'd pour himself a single shot of bourbon at the end of the day. He claimed it helped him unwind. If the whole family decided to visit, he'd drink heavily.

Cyrus had always been an observant, astute child. Each time Alexander opened his mouth or Nichole made a degrading remark, the old man would lift the coffee mug to his lips and take another sip. People didn't play drinking games unless the drinks were spiked. Once he had too much to drink, he'd simply go limp in his chair and nod off. It seemed as calm and dignified way to duck out of his responsibilities as any.

It didn't taste like regular hot chocolate. There was something in it. "What did you put in this?"

"Peppermint schnapps," Isaac informed him. "I told Eric to look for _Crème de Menthe_ , but that fancy Kalosian stuff was apparently too expensive. It doesn't matter. This'll get you wasted faster, anyway."

Good. Then maybe he'd be able to focus on something other than the fact he'd told Cynthia very personal things in confidence, only for her to turn around and blab everything to a stranger.

"We're taking the 10:00 Inter-Metro to Kalium City tomorrow morning," Isaac informed Cyrus. "I asked Renata if she wanted to ride with us, but she's got her own car. Do you think you and your girlfriend would—"

"Cynthia's not my girlfriend," Cyrus grumbled, tracing his thumb around the white rim of the plastic cup. Right now, he wasn't even convinced Cynthia was his _friend_. "We just work together."

The redheaded boy seemed surprised by that statement. "You mean to tell me Cynthia isn't your— _wow_. I could've sworn…ha ha. Man, I'm sorry!"

"That means she's single," a dark-haired boy in a blue hat heckled from Isaac's group of friends. "Maybe you can woo her over with your nerdy ginger moves!"

"Dude, _no_!" Isaac groaned, swigging down his entire cup. "You're just being an asshole, Eric. Stop!"

' _Is the room supposed to spin when you drink?_ ' It wasn't too bad yet, but Cyrus worried that it would only get worse. If he closed his eyes, the sensation mostly stopped. Once he opened them again and tried to focus his gaze someplace specific, he felt dizzy. The room didn't look like it was spinning, but it felt like he was simultaneously falling and sitting in place.

He didn't like this ride. He wanted to get off before he threw up.

Isaac was starting to slur his words. He'd also become a bit less considerate of other people's personal boundaries, even going so far as to lightly poke Cyrus in the chest with a green mitten. "Look. If yer stayin' in the Kalium City Trainers Lodge, we'll just-keep bumpin' into each uh-ther anyway. Maybe we can join forces wi'h you an' Cynthia! What're yuh working on, anyway?"

"Research…" Cyrus didn't want to slur, so he took extra time to enunciate each word. "Research on Pokémon…migratory patterns…"

"That sounds _ah-some_! How do the gyms factor into that?"

"You can't…explore the uninhabited…areas…until you have…" He wasn't slowing down his words once they came out, but he was finding it harder to talk. It took a split second to find the right word. "…four badges. I think that's the Iron Badge…"

He could feel Isaac's hand thumping his back, trying to pat some reassurance into him. Cyrus hated it when people touched him without permission, but he suspected his acquaintance was too inebriated to notice or care. "You'll get 'em. I mean, _heeeeeey_! After you made an ass outta Simon, we _all_ fought him. No one gave him a break 'cause they were all too scared he'd shut down the gym. Eric even followed him into the bathroom!"

Right before curfew, Simon posted a sign to the outside of the Plumbum City Gym. He planned to take a "holiday" for the remainder of the week and would reopen the gym on Monday. Maybe he needed some time to lick his wounds in private.

"I'm glad you and your friends were finally…able to make it past your…obstacle…" But Cyrus could tell Isaac wanted to know more about him. Telling Cynthia this much had been a mistake, and he knew her better. This guy was just somebody he'd battled and trained with to defeat a Gym Leader. Up until this point, Cyrus simply believed they'd part ways after this.

' _But it makes sense. They wanted to do the Kinzo League Challenge_. _We just so happen to be going there, too._ ' And if Isaac and his gang were in the Kalium City Trainers Lodge, he'd at least have some familiar faces in the crowd. There was no reason to be cruel.

"To the conquest of Kalium City!" Isaac joked, holding up his cup of spiked cocoa like he would for a toast. Only a few gulps of the murky brown liquid were left. In silence, Cyrus raised his glass as well and took another swig.

The taste was nauseating. Even without alcohol, mint chocolate had a tendency to make him feel ill. There had been a time when he used to enjoy that flavor, but he now associated it with overindulgence.

Several years ago, his mother had purchased a giant bag of chocolate mint patties and dumped all the contents into a festive holiday bowl. Cyrus was either two or three: much too young to understand the concept of moderation. All he remembered was that nobody was supervising him and he proceeded to consume half the bowl. The rest of the night, he retched and gagged, wrapping his tiny arms around his waist in a feeble attempt to get the terrible feeling to stop.

 _Not on the carpet_ , he remembered Nichole saying. _Please, not on the carpet. It's brand new_.

But this wasn't even candy. This was cheap hot cocoa laced heavily with peppermint schnapps. If his gag memory of mint chocolate wasn't enough to turn him ill, the alcohol surely would.

Isaac offered a second drink. Cyrus accepted it.

…

"It's really picking up down there."

That was an understatement. The collective laughter and cheering of every trainer within the Lodge was so loud that Cynthia couldn't make out any words other than "Cyrus" and "Simon." She'd expected as much. The whole reason they were having a party tonight was because Cyrus made Simon look like a joke and Kinzo culture openly welcomed schadenfreude.

She was proud of him, and it thrilled her to see she wasn't the only one who felt that way. Once the party was over and they were back in the private room, she'd reassure him of that in private. Maybe it would mean a bit more coming from her, considering all they'd been through together.

Helping Professor Myrtle with her research was an honor. Battling the Kinzo Pokémon League excited her because Simon was proof of how tough the other Gym Leaders would be. Cynthia loved a good challenge. As nice as both those things were, Cynthia hesitated to call either one of them the most important part of her Kinzo journey.

What she wanted more than anything was to help her friend come out of his shell. Cyrus was so quiet and gloomy, but she understood why. In passing, he'd made a few remarks about his parents: just enough for Cynthia to realize how much she hated them. Her partner was an intelligent, considerate, empathetic person. He had a compassionate heart and was capable of so much; but Cyrus couldn't see that anymore. His parents had made certain that all he could see were his flaws and inadequacies.

Cynthia wouldn't let it end that way. Not on her watch.

Plumbum City was just a taste of things to come. If Cyrus left this city with a little more confidence than he had when he started, Kalium City would be easy and they'd breeze through Hydrargyrum City. Cynthia's hope was that by Ferrum Town, Cyrus would have an entire network of friends who recognized how great he was. Most importantly, she wanted him to realize that about himself.

"I'll let you go," Carolina decided, a big smile on her face. "Just because I could talk to you all night doesn't mean I should."

"Thanks, Grandmother. I love you." It was always hard to say goodbye to Carolina, but Cynthia somehow managed. Now she had to find Cyrus. He'd been in the hall earlier, but he'd gone downstairs without her.

The only thing she'd told Carolina about Cyrus's past was that it had been far from pleasant, and she didn't have to meet his parents to realize she'd hate them. When Cynthia promised never to share the details, she meant it. She never went back on her word.

Carolina had joked about giving him an honorary spot in the family, but Cynthia privately wished she could do that for real. ' _He'd be happier with us; I know he would. The way he carries himself: he's so tightly wound that I'm afraid he's going to snap one day._ '

Cyrus held everything in. Occasionally, a sliver or two of emotion slipped out and his stoic façade temporarily broke. In those moments, he felt more genuine. The rest of the time, Cynthia felt like he was putting on some kind of act: like he was scared to show his complete, unadulterated self. Was he trying to copy someone he admired, or was he repressing his emotions as a coping mechanism for all the negative things he felt?

As Cynthia made her way downstairs to the party, she realized how difficult it would be to find Cyrus in the crowd. The entire bottom floor was teeming with people: all congratulating each other on their recent victories. When Cynthia passed the punch bowl, she could smell the alcohol.

' _Professor Myrtle would approve,_ ' she thought with a smirk.

A scrawny girl in an oversized yellow flannel shirt offered to pour her a cup, which she graciously accepted. One drink wasn't going to hurt, so long as she never took her eyes off it. She half expected Cyrus to pop out of the crowd, pull the drink out of her hand, and scold her because they were both below the legal drinking age; but he didn't. She couldn't find him anywhere.

…

Once Isaac's group decided to leave him alone, Cyrus was dragged into another cluster of trainers. And another. And _another_.

There was a pattern to this. Each group wanted to hear how he outsmarted Simon with an empty Poké Ball. By the time a fourth group approached him; Cyrus had finished his second drink and was convinced he could parrot this story back ad infinitum. It was better just to follow some sort of mental script and go on autopilot, complete with his best fake smile.

Some people laughed. Others wanted to pat his back or shake his hand. One group of teenagers asked if they could pose for a group picture together, all with their Lead Badges out. Grigol's little sister called him an evil genius and insisted she meant that as a compliment. However, most people just listened to him talk and nodded their heads at certain parts of the story. Their smiles were quiet, polite, and felt fake.

' _That's nice, dear,_ ' he thought in his mother's voice. Eventually, the groups stopped gravitating toward him. They'd find old friends in the crowd and leave Cyrus behind to catch up with the people they actually knew.

He took his half-empty disposable cup and staggered toward the fireplace. One of the wing-backed armchairs was vacant, so he slouched into it and closed his eyes. His right hand remained in his jacket pocket. The cool, slick metal of the Lead Badge felt warm against his fingers, but not hot. He'd touched it for so long that it was the same temperature as his own body.

' _That's nice…_ '

"Is this a private reverie, or may an old lady join you?" Cyrus slowly opened an eye. His vision was blurry at first from all the alcohol, but he recognized Renata's plump, chubby body. Instead of answering her, he just gestured for her to take the other free chair. "I'm glad you made Simon eat Murkrow today."

"Everyone is," Cyrus grumbled before taking another gulp of the drink. He didn't even have to look at Renata to know she was probably judging him for it. "Did you…get a Lead…Badge?"

"I did, but that's not why I came over here. I wanted to see if you were alright."

In the background, Cyrus could hear Isaac regaling another group with the epic tale of Simon Morozov's great defeat. Each time Cyrus heard the story start over, he took another gulp from the cup. He was finally starting to understand why his grandfather did this during visits. "I'm fine, Renata."

He heard the uncomfortable sound of a heavy chair scraping against the tile. Renata was moving closer, just so she could hear him more clearly. "I know I'm not your mother—"

"Thank Arceus for that."

The chair stopped moving. Immediately, he realized he'd been needlessly cruel. All this woman wanted to do was help, and he'd snapped at her like a wounded Pokémon. If she left now, he'd understand.

"Sorry…" but it was probably too late for an apology. "That came out wrong. I…what I meant to say…was that I'm glad you don't _act_ like my mother. I called her. I tried to tell her how…hard it was to beat this guy…and…" And all Nichole gave him was her usual cold indifference. Those same three insincere, automated words kept playing in his head. "For once…I just wanted someone to be proud of me. I don't…I really don't think that's too much to ask…is it?"

"Cyrus…" Renata's voice was still calm: like a parent who was all too used to a child throwing a tantrum. "This whole Lodge is proud of you."

But he was already shaking his head in disagreement. "They're just happy somebody softened up Simon for them. They're… _appreciative._ That's not the same thing."

"Dear, I have no idea how much alcohol you've consumed tonight; but it's a depressant. The more you drink, the more you'll believe these people aren't your friends when they actually are. Some of them were so happy for you that they took the Metro back to Plumbum, just to see you. I even have a little something for you."

"You didn't have to—"

"I wanted to. Here." Renata placed a light blue envelope in Cyrus's hands. "It isn't much, but I hope you'll like it."

The alcohol made his arms feel like they were being weighed down with lead. As a result, it took a little longer than usual to open the envelope without tearing the paper. Inside was a postcard of another Kinzonian city. "I can't read this. It's in your language." The Cyrillic letters were neat to look at, but the postcard may as well have been written in gibberish.

"It says **_greetings from Stannum City_** _:_ _ **where old friends reunite**_. This is my hometown. We don't have a Pokémon Gym, so you wouldn't be able to go there until you defeat the Ferrum Town Gym Leader. Do you know why I'm giving you this?"

"No."

"It's because I want to keep in touch with you. I wrote my son's mailing address and phone number on the back. I visit him quite regularly and I may have bragged about your match."

 _'Oh_ …' There it was: Aldo Cordova, 416 E. 32nd Street, Stannum City. Apartment 9D.

"In some ways, you remind me of my other child. My daughter would train her Pokémon from sunrise to sunset because she wanted to be perfect. It didn't matter how many times I told her how smart and talented she was. Those words only meant something when she heard them from the Kinzo League."

In this regard, Cyrus could relate to Renata's daughter a little _too_ well. After a while, his grandfather's reassurances that he was bright stopped meaning anything. Brilliance was nice, but it paled in comparison to actual genius. "Did she?"

"Yes, she did. In recent years, she's become something of a local celebrity. People throw parties in her honor, invite her to fight competitively at the Stannum City People's Arena, and even approach her for product endorsements. The Kinzo League loves her."

That was good to hear. Renata's daughter sounded like someone he'd probably like.

"But I'm not so sure she believes that. Every time we talk on the phone, she tells me how lonely she is. She has a fiancé, but..." Renata shook her head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make this about my family. My point is I really latched onto you because you felt familiar. You won't have any trouble getting to Stannum City, dear. It's a little off the beaten path, and going there won't get you any further with the Kinzo League Challenge; but I don't want tonight to be the last time I see you."

Cyrus had been able to fight off his tears earlier, but not anymore. That postcard was proof that he'd made a friend who wanted to see him beyond this one little victory. Even after he left Plumbum City and continued on his journey, he'd still have Renata. "Thanks..."

…

' _Damn it, Campanella! You couldn't even bother to show?!_ ' Cynthia would chew her out for this tomorrow. It almost felt like she'd blown them off for a two-week booty call.

Even then, that didn't upset her anywhere near as much as the complete disregard the other guests seemed to have for the Lodge Owner. As people began leaving the party for the private rooms and public barracks, they left their mess behind. Cynthia lost count of how many spilled drinks, empty plates, and stray pieces of food were strewn around what was typically an immaculate lobby.

"I am so sorry!" she kept telling the Lodge Owner. "My friend beat Simon and…"

"It's alright, Cynthia. It's always a big deal when a trainer defeats Comrade Morozov. It merited a party. Really…"

If she'd known they'd trash the Lodge this badly, she would have shut down the idea immediately. This old gentleman had given everybody a roof over their heads, a bed to sleep in, three free meals a day, and a clean, friendly environment. A Trainers Lodge was supposed to be a home away from home: a place where everyone was welcomed, respected, and part of a bigger family.

They hadn't treated the Lodge Owner that way. They simply trashed his house and expected him to get everything clean again by the following morning. Cynthia couldn't just stand there and watch him sweep the floors alone. Even though he insisted everything was fine, she ended up spending the next two hours helping him tidy up.

' _Where were you? This was your party and I didn't even see you._ ' She'd been on the floor the entire time—dancing, singing karaoke, and swapping stories with everyone else—but never saw Cyrus.

The more she thought about this, the guiltier she felt. ' _Maybe a party wasn't a good idea. I saw the face he made when everyone showed up to watch his battle._ ' Cyrus had been too polite to tell everybody he'd rather fight Simon in private, but Cynthia knew him well enough to realize he'd been thinking it. All they'd done was make him nervous.

Maybe it would have been better to do something in private upstairs. She could have borrowed one of the small picnic stoves, bought a few groceries, and attempted to make a home-cooked meal in their room. Or maybe he could have tweaked the satellite so they could watch a TV program from Sinnoh. She was already feeling homesick.

Just because Cynthia was an extrovert and enjoyed being around people, that didn't mean Cyrus felt the same way. This evening had probably done more harm than good.

"Do you plan to go to Kalium City tomorrow?" When Cynthia nodded her head, the Lodge Owner sighed. "You should get to bed, then. I can take care of the rest."

By the time Cynthia made it back to the private room, Cyrus was already in bed and appeared to be asleep. His back was turned to her and he didn't move. Less than half a meter from his head was a small trashcan. The sickening smell of stomach acid and mint-flavored alcohol wafted out of it. Not wanting to wake her friend, Cynthia kept the lights off and tried to quietly climb up to the top bunk, slide herself between the insulated sheets, and get comfortable.

"Goodnight," she heard him grumble. It sounded slightly muffled, like he'd shoved his face deep into a pillow.

She smiled, sliding quietly between the sheets of her separate bed. "Goodnight."


	18. Situation Normal

"I know we were talking about taking the 9:00 Inter-Metro to Kalium City, but…"

Cynthia shook her head. She'd stopped after only one drink last night. She felt fine, but she could tell Cyrus was feeling the effects of last night's festivities. If her voice hit a certain pitch, he'd wince. Campanella sometimes grunted, which made her wonder if she'd partied hard last night, too…just for other reasons.

She saw a few familiar faces sitting at the terminal, waiting for the train to arrive. Isaac and his friends were there, huddled together to keep from freezing. Among them was a particularly neurotic-looking brunette with an oversized map. The girl babbled at such rapid-fire speeds that the boys in her party couldn't keep up. The largest one—a husky fellow in a teal pea coat—yanked the map out of the girl's hands and decided to look at it instead.

Campanella chuckled a bit. "Friends've yers?" she gruffed, doing all she could to make sure her cigarette merely wiggled between her lips and didn't fall out.

Cyrus took a slow, deep breath. His lips pursed and he walked a bit more stiffly down the stairs. When Jet's greeting video came on to welcome people to the Inter-Metro, he cringed. Considering how much alcohol he consumed last night, he was pretty sure Cynthia and Campanella knew he was hungover. The fact he insisted on wearing his sunglasses indoors probably made it even more obvious.

He was right. Cynthia noticed.

Cecil, Cynthia's father, was rarely in Celestic Town; but his old college buddies liked to visit the house for an annual get-together. When it happened, they'd pop open a few bottles of old wine and reminisce about their glory days until they ran out of booze. If someone was sober enough to run to the liquor store and buy more, more glasses were passed. They'd laugh so loud that Cynthia could hear them from her room, but she didn't mind. Even parents needed little vacations sometimes.

She only put her foot down when it was two in the morning and she was trying to sleep. If she turned on the waterworks and insisted she had a test the following day; that was a sure-fire way to get her dad's friends to quit. They all knew how important a child's education was and didn't want to get in the way.

That wasn't going to work with Cyrus, though. They were the same age.

Last night's party had probably been a sensory overload and he'd decided to drink to cope. It wasn't a healthy habit to pick up—and Cynthia hoped he wouldn't do it again—but she could at least understand it. "Hey," she whispered, hoping to catch his attention. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine." Cyrus walked faster. As soon as he spotted an opening beside the familiar group of backpackers, he took it before Cynthia could even get another word in.

' _What on earth's gotten into him?_ ' Cynthia's cheeks slightly puffed out in annoyance. "Did he say anything to you this morning, Campanella?"

"Hm? Ah, no." The older woman put out her cigarette and threw it in a nearby trash bin. "He's probably just hungover, kid. Drinkin' vodka's pretty much a Kinzonian pastime." Cynthia gave her a look for that, pretty sure that Campanella's joke wasn't politically correct. "Excited for Kalium City?"

"Is it better than Plumbum City?" Cynthia was optimistic. "What about the Gym Leader?"

"Kalium's a newer city, so there ain't a lot of historical stuff beyond Katarina Square. Some of the museums are worth your time and the boardwalk's fun; but you can probably skip the rest."

' _Maybe_ _I'll make my own judgment call._ ' Cynthia felt like Campanella was wrong about the Ædranos Ruins. Taking a private tour with an experienced guide made for a haunting, lasting memory. She wasn't sure if _fun_ was the right word, but she'd been intrigued by the sights and sounds of Ædranos. If they hadn't gone there, she never would have met Spiritomb!

"Attention, passengers," Jet's velvet-smooth voice announced over the speaker in a pre-recorded message. "To ensure everyone who wishes to take the Inter-Metro has an available seat, you may only have one Pokémon out of its Poké Ball on the train. If an attendant asks you to return your Pokémon to its Poké Ball, please comply. The list of restricted species should be posted at your terminal. Restricted species must be contained at all times. Thank you for your cooperation."

Jet was the first Kinzo face Cynthia had ever seen. Every Metro trip, most commercials, most bulletin boards: Jet of Kalium City was almost everywhere. So handsome, so charming, so seemingly eager for a challenge! She couldn't wait to challenge him to a Pokémon battle! "Are you going to keep a Pokémon out, Campanella?"

"Yep. Raichu's compliant! I'll either pick her or Ambipom. My Jumpluff's claustrophobic and Rapidash is on the restricted list. You might want to check and see if you're good to go."

…

Spiritomb wasn't a restricted species, so Cynthia placed the keystone-shaped rock gently upon her lap. The Pokémon's purple and green fog glowed with renewed energy. When she smiled at the Pokémon, it smiled back.

She knew Eevee was fine, seeing as she'd let him walk around last time. There had been less time to bond with Spiritomb and she didn't want the Pokémon to feel like she only loved Eevee. In the end, she'd have to return Eevee to Professor Myrtle. Spiritomb was hers forever.

There were electronic encyclopedias at the Pokémon Center and the Trainers Lodges which contained several notes about various Pokémon species. They weren't as fancy as the Pokédex she'd helped Professor Rowan fill out, but they still contained a great deal of information. Spiritombs were created when 108 spirits were trapped within a cursed stone. They could be human spirits, Pokémon spirits, or some other malevolent being.

Some were sealed through spells. Others were born through tragedy. Cynthia's Spiritomb contained some of the Ædranos victims, including the high priest. They were alive when the volcanic soot, ash, and gas choked the ancient town. Their deaths were a dark mark on Kinzonian history: a tragedy the world would be wise to never forget.

At first, Cynthia was afraid Spiritomb wouldn't want to leave the ruins behind: that she'd have to return it to Ædranos after it recuperated. The Pokémon surprised her. It didn't want to go back. When Cynthia voiced her concerns about Team Sigma coming back to harass it again, Spiritomb mentioned this happened quite regularly.

Spiritomb wanted to see this new world. An entire civilization rose to power after his empire fell, only to be subjugated by foreigners. And now Kinzo was once again in Kinzonian hands. The country was in an unprecedented Fourth Age and Spiritomb wanted to catch up on everything it missed.

"We're apparently going to a city with a lot of modern museums," Cynthia told the Pokémon as she stroked its rock. "That includes a wax museum with replicas of Kinzo's most famous people and Pokémon."

According to the summary in the travel guide; most of the statues would be of old tsars, famous television personalities, high-ranking government officials, and members of the Kinzo Pokémon League. That could be neat. Maybe she'd even get a sneak preview of what the Kinzo Champion looked like!

' ** _None of us will have a statue, I presume?_** '

"No, probably not…" She gave Spiritomb's stone a gentle, reassuring pat. "But I'm sure we'll have fun in Kalium City. The Gym Leader specializes in Fighting Pokémon. You're immune to those attacks." Normal attacks, too. Spiritomb was going to be a tank in Jet's gym, so it was all the more important that Cynthia bond with it.

' ** _It shall be a slaughter, then! Oh, how I miss the days of gladiatorial combat, unbridled carnage and—_** '

"Ssssssh, sssssh. No. These battles stop when your opponent _faints_." Though from the way Isaac kept grinning and waving at her, she kind of wished Spiritomb could make people faint too. "You went overboard when we challenged Simon. You almost killed his Bronzor."

' ** _Back in our day…_** '

"But we're not in your day anymore, are we? Please don't kill anything, Spiritomb. I could get in a lot of trouble if you do."

The Pokémon looked up at her, glowing green eyes beaming so brightly. The edges of its wicked smile curled upward until they nearly met at the top. ' ** _You're compassionate. I do like that…even if it is a little annoying at points…_** '

…

"Greater than the sum of our parts."

"Yes. Greater than the sum of our parts."

When Natela heard the trace of annoyance in her Beta's voice, she shuddered. She was used to Aldous sounding pleased with her performance—or at the very least amused. Not this time. The fact this was a video call made matters even worse. The lighting in his office was dark, making it difficult to see much more than his piercing blue eyes, which were leering at her behind his tortoiseshell glasses.

Natela's plump hand tightly clenched the handle of her briefcase. Today was going to mark a very important day for Team Sigma's cause. Avdantil wasn't part of this equation. Yes, he was traveling with her; but his presence was of no consequence. In short, he was extra inventory: a _muda_ that would need to be forgiven for the purposes of this operation.

"Everything is in order?"

She could feel a thin layer of sweat building on the back of her neck and her scalp. If she reached up to scratch at her dark, unbleached roots; her fingertips would come back wet and shiny. It worried her when Aldous used this tone. She'd heard him use it on Avdantil before, but he usually did something to warrant it. This was her first time being on Aldous's shit list and she didn't like it.

"Yes; Beta Aldous, sir. The timer is set to go off ten kilometers south of Kalium City."

In short: a dangerous drive for drivers, an impossible day's walk for walkers, and so far out in the boonies that people would need both nocturnal and environmental permits just to come to the train's rescue. This kind of attack would be guaranteed to hit more than just the Kalium City News airwaves. It would go national. But this was just a test; nothing more. The _real_ fireworks had yet to come.

"You know there is a more than slight possibility that help won't arrive in time. If that occurs, you and your Pokémon will—"

"That is of no consequence, sir. If our Alpha's theory is correct and we carry the plan to its conclusion, I shall be remembered and rewarded accordingly."

Did death scare her? _Absolutely_! It was a good thing the videophone booths only showed people from the shoulders and up. It hid the fact she was quaking in her boots. If this went wrong, it would go _very_ wrong. There were at least three ways she, Avdantil, their Pokémon, and all the other passengers could potentially die.

The E-Bomb wouldn't be what killed them.

Most who escaped the tunnel and tried to run into the wilderness for help would die. Any inexperienced drivers hitting the icy roads would die, considering the Kalium area expected blizzard levels of snowfall today. If the computers operating the Kinzo Inter-Metro transit system didn't pick up on the train's signal, another train could ram into them and cause an impact explosion. Even if they sat around and patiently waited for professional help to come, hypothermia was still a risk.

For the first time in the entire videophone call, Natela could see the edges of a smile on Aldous's face. "Are we done, Natela?"

"My apologies, sir. There is one more thing," Natela squeezed the suitcase tighter. "Avdantil and I have been in the terminal for the past two hours, waiting for the busiest train of the day." It would be arriving in another ten minutes. "The girl who captured the Ædranos Spiritomb is also boarding. I have another shot at acquiring that Pokémon. Do you want me to take it?"

"I'm a little disappointed you felt the need to ask me that. The Ædranos mission was your first ever snafu." Snafu: situation normal, all fucked up. "Get as close to that girl as you can. Find out which Poké Ball the Spiritomb is in and take it for Team Sigma. The information that Pokémon possesses is valuable for our end goal. It cannot be cast aside."

"I think…" The proverbial gears in Natela's head began to spin. A plan was already formulating. It wasn't only Cynthia she'd spotted, but also that glooming-looking boy with the Zubat.

She wasn't stupid. She knew who that was. Word was that boy somehow managed to beat the Plumbum City Gym Leader on his first try.

"I think I know how I can best utilize Avdantil's…heh… _talents_." Her smile turned into a malicious grin. "After all, what is it that you Betas like to say? That even _Epsilons_ are useful…?"

…

To Cyrus, sitting with Isaac and his friends was a lot like a typical lunch period at his high school. His first plan was always to sneak into a far corner of the library and read, but that only worked until the librarian found him and ordered him to go back to the cafeteria. _You should eat something_ , she always insisted. _You're still growing_.

Plan B involved finding an empty table. Sometimes he was successful. Other times, he wasn't.

There weren't any bullies in his school, at least so far as he'd encountered. Most of the other students were polite people who typically tried to avoid confrontation. If Cyrus needed to sit next to another student, they'd let him do it. They'd just continue to talk to their friends as though he wasn't there. In those moments, he felt like a ghost.

Isaac had been quick to suggest Cyrus sit with his group of friends on the train, but had yet to include him in any part of the group's conversation. That was alright. Not much of anything they were blathering on about interested him, anyway.

"Lulu ran the numbers," Isaac remarked, passing a notebook to two other boys in his group: a rough-looking blonde boy and a dark-haired boy with sleepy blue eyes. "I think Eric's going to have the toughest time in the Kalium Gym."

"Huh?" the husky boy sitting next to Cyrus growled. Even though the train asked people to keep their food in containers while riding, Eric disregarded the signs and chose to open a bag of barbecue-flavored potato chips anyway. "The hell makes you say that? We just got our Pokémon out of quarantine, Isaac. That means—"

"That means your Skitty's screwed, pal. Jet uses Fighting Pokémon. Your lineup's almost entirely Normal types. I don't care how much you think Mr. Skitty's a badass. He's not." As if to prove Isaac's point, the pink cutesy cat snuggled up on Eric's lap and mewed for attention.

"Shut uuuuup," Eric hissed, hugging his Pokémon close to him. "Mr. Skitty fought off a burglar, okay!? I had the place to myself one night and a guy broke into my house! I didn't even notice until I heard somebody screaming. When I came downstairs, the guy was on the ground, Mr. Skitty was—"

Considering Cyrus heard the girl sitting next to Isaac groan, he suspected everyone had heard this story a million times before. Isaac sniggered, but said nothing.

"How…" It was the second word he'd said to them all day. The first, _thanks,_ he'd merely uttered when they made room for him to take a seat. Eric's epic (and probably fictional) Skitty story came to a screeching halt. All eyes were on Cyrus. "How do you know each other? Did you grow up together in Saffron City?"

"Eric and I went to Kindergarten together," Isaac explained. "And these two guys here? We met in fourth grade. Lulu—"

"I'm the odd one out. I didn't know any of these guys until we got on the plane! We chatted, discovered we were going to Kinzo for the same reason, and just decided to travel together. Safety in numbers, right?"

"Not if your numbers are all shitty," Eric hissed. "Just you wait, Lulu. I'm gonna make you eat your damn numbers when Mr. Skitty clobbers that Gym Leader!"

The girl turned around to face Cyrus and Eric. She was a homely-looking thing: straight and limp brown hair parted down the middle, dark circles under her tired green eyes, thick coke-bottle glasses, pink puffy lips, and an entire mouth caged in braces. Cyrus thought she kind of looked like a human version of a Feebas. "My parents are actuaries for one of the biggest Pokémon insurance companies in Kanto. I _know_ how statistics work. Eric?"

"Hn?"

"Let's swap seats. I want to talk to Cyrus." That was fine. He was getting tired of Eric's loud mouth, anyway.

Lulu took up half the space her hefty companion did, though Cyrus thought she looked a little _too_ small. Her yellow and black checkered shirt was at least two sizes too large and her pants looked like they'd fall off if she didn't wear a belt. She turned her notebook over to a new page and tapped a mechanical pencil against the paper. "May I?"

"May you what? I don't understand."

"I'd like to crunch your numbers," the girl explained. "If you could tell me your Pokémon's levels, natures, and moves; I can run that against what I know about Jet Melkadze's gym lineup. I'll calculate your probability of another first-time success."

"No, thank you." He didn't want anyone in that group to know that much about his Pokémon. Isaac and his friends had been in Kinzo long enough to get their original Pokémon out of quarantine. There was still a good chance they'd want a rematch in the Battle Rooms. If this girl had his stats on file, she could be dangerous.

By now, he was tempted to find any other spare seat on the train. There were none. Cynthia gestured, indicating she could get Campanella to trade with him if he wished, but he'd rather sit where he already was.

He was still mad at her for what she did yesterday.

…

' _What a loud group! There are signs all over the train, reminding people this is a quiet car!_ ' They weren't exactly hidden, either. Every car Cyrus passed on the way to the lavatory had one.

Keep conversations to a minimum. Music can only be played when using headphones. These specific foods and Pokémon are not permitted on the Metro unless they are contained at all times. No panhandling. No soliciting. No knives or guns. Please report any suspicious activity to security.

Even though it stank, a bathroom stall was the only place on the entire train where he could get a little privacy. All this noise was giving him a terrible headache. Somebody else came in and took the stall beside him. Much to his annoyance, the other guy was whistling. That high-pitched noise felt like an icepick to the back of his hungover head.

' _That settles it. I'm never going to drink again._ '

All he wanted to do was get off this train, check in at the Trainers Lodge, book his match with Jet, and call it a day. So what if it would be almost noon by the time they arrived? This one time, taking a nap through the entire day felt like a good idea. Food wasn't helping. He didn't even want to think about food.

At the sink, Cyrus splashed his cheeks and forehead with some ice cold water. It woke him up a bit and actually felt pleasant. He used a little more to tame his silvery-blue hair, at least enough to keep it out of his face.

The whistling continued.

"This is a quiet car," Cyrus reminded the other passenger. The noise stopped, replaced by the sound of a bathroom stall opening. A familiar face emerged: grinning at him. "Wait. You're that Team Sigma guy I battled at the—"

"In the flesh, comrade!" Avdantil replied, holding up a Poké Ball. A big, cruel grin spread on his face and his eyes went big. Cyrus could see the whites on all sides, as well as hear Avdantil's deep, heavy breathing. "And guess what _we're_ about to do again?"

"Is your friend with you?" Cyrus inquired. "Natela, right? I'd rather battle her." At least she seemed like a challenge.

"да. Natela is on the train. What about your friend? Cindy? Sandra?"

"Cynthia," Cyrus corrected him. "And that's none of your business." Even if he was still angry with her, he didn't want to drop any unnecessary problems on her lap. She caught the Spiritomb these people wanted. If Team Sigma found out Cynthia was on the train, they'd go after her and attempt to take her Pokémon away.

Avdantil loomed closer, breaking into Cyrus's personal space. They were so close that he could smell the breath mint in Avdantil's mouth. Up until that moment, Cyrus hadn't realized how tall this guy was. Avdantil was wiry, with some lean muscle twisting around his big bones. He'd be a large and intimidating man when he finished maturing, but his frame had yet to completely fill out. "How long have you been in Kinzo, comrade?"

"About a week," Cyrus answered nervously, not sure what that had to do with anything.

"Have you fought in a Battle Car yet?" Avdantil asked, looking Cyrus straight in the eye. "If not, you're about to."

"I'd rather not. If you want a rematch—"

Avandil's hand grabbed Cyrus's wrist and yanked him away from the sink. His breathing was rather heavy as he continued with that psychotic grin. "Don't say no to me. If I want a rematch, I'll _get_ a rematch."

Cyrus attempted to pull his arm away, but Avdantil was even stronger than he looked.

The Battle Car was in the opposite direction of where Cyrus left his luggage. It was easily identified by its red metal exterior. Inside, all Cyrus could see was reinforced concrete, a flickering fluorescent light, and an assortment of foreboding stains and claw marks. The glass had a smear on it: probably from some unfortunate Pokémon's paw print in an attempt to escape.

As soon as he entered the car, the smell was overpowering: industrial grade cleaners paired with whatever bodily fluids got leaked in no-holds-barred combat.

Avdantil gave Cyrus a hateful shove, knocking him to the ground with the same kind of force Alexander used at home. Cyrus braced himself by placing his hands to the floor and took a couple of seconds to turn around. The Gamma loomed over him, a sadistic gleam in his eye. Although his hand quivered with excitement, it still managed to firmly hold a Poké Ball.

"Go ahead," Avdantil hissed. "Call something out. You're all mine and no one is coming to help you."


	19. Killing Jar

**Author's Notes: I want to be a considerate author and understand that there are certain subject matters that some readers may find upsetting, triggering, or uncomfortable. When those moments occur, I will place a content warning without spoiling the chapter.**

 **This is one of those chapters. While I understand that the very concept of Pokémon battles has violent roots, there is a strong difference between typical battles and the atrocity you'll be witnessing in this battle.**

 **There is a content warning for gore, extreme violence, and animal abuse for this chapter. If you have a sensitivity to any of these subject matters, you may want to skip this chapter or proceed with caution.**

…

Cyrus could feel Eevee's Poké Ball wriggle around in his pocket. _Pick me,_ it seemed to be telling him. _Oh, please, pick me_!

' _I can't use him. Not in here._ ' He'd made a promise to Professor Myrtle that her Eevee would be safe in his care. That meant no battles in a Battle Car. No part of him had ever been tempted by the prospect of going into one; but now that he was here, it meant Zubat was his only viable option.

' _Here's hoping you're enough,_ ' he privately prayed, calling out his Pokémon. Zubat flapped his wings and opened his mouth as wide as it could go.

"You aren't going to show me your new Pokémon?" Avdantil asked, raising an eyebrow. "Natela said you have a third one now. When you went up against Simon—"

"Just call something out. I don't want to spend any more time with you than I have to."

Avdantil snorted when Cyrus said that. "Suit yourself. If you won't show me something new, then I won't either. Bidoofus, go!"

The Gamma threw the ball with enough force and speed to hit the edge of the car. Cyrus half expected it to crack and break, but it didn't. Now he knew why it looked so scuffed up and dented when they battled at the ruins.

Bidoofus, chip-toothed and cross-eyed as ever, waddled away from the fight zone and toward Avdantil. The beaver Pokémon looked up eagerly at his trainer and gave him a meek, pleading smile. ' _No battle today?'_

Avdantil gave his Pokémon a stern, disapproving look and pointed toward the scuffed-up center of the car. When the Bidoof dawdled, he kicked it.

Noticing that the Bidoof was more interested in trying to leave the fight than make an attack, Cyrus took that opportunity to strike first. "Confuse Ray."

Everyone had warned him that Zubat was only a level or two away from refusing to listen to his commands. They said he'd need two badges to ensure its unwavering obedience. Even then, it would only be a matter of time before Zubat over-leveled and turned defiant again. But Zubat obeyed him. It followed his every word. Maybe he wasn't an affectionate creature like Eevee, but he listened to his trainer's commands just fine.

The Confuse Ray was bright enough to make the fluorescent light of the car look like candlelight. The back of Cyrus's head throbbed in pain, so he shut his eyes until the ray was gone.

"Doof Doof?" Bidoofus called out confusedly. Before Avdantil could even issue a command, the big beaver saw Zubat's shadow against the side of the car and decided to tackle it. Bidoofus hit the wall with so much force that the car shook. Cyrus heard the creature muffle a pained noise, but then it gave a weak smile back at its trainer. ' _I did good_?'

Avdantil just leered at his Pokémon. "That wasn't the Zubat, idiot. That was just his—"

"Wing Attack." There was no point in delaying the inevitable. When Cyrus ordered that command, Avdantil seemed genuinely surprised. It was a one-hit KO, knocking Bidoofus out without any issue.

"You…" Avdantil's hand twitched as he reached for his second Pokémon.

"Yes?" Cyrus gave his Zubat a treat for performing so well in the battle. Cynthia kept little bags of treats in her bag and offered to give him some for his Pokémon a few days ago. He'd half forgotten about them, and Eevee tended to like them a little more than Zubat did, but the Pokémon still seemed appreciative. "Did you want to stop?"

When Avdantil heard Cyrus ask that, he roared with laughter. "No one is leaving this car until a victor is determined, comrade. I won't let you. Guano Lisa, go!"

Zubat remembered his last encounter with Guano Lisa, and it appeared she remembered it, too. He had been a mere ruins scavenger back then: freshly caught and still undecided on whether he would love or loathe the sickly-looking boy who captured him. Guano Lisa was an old professional: a Pokémon who knew all about belonging to a human being and following his orders.

Zubat had fought before in the wild. If any tourists made the mistake of bringing food into the ruins, his colony decided to attack them. Once the tourists ran off and abandoned their food, the colony then battled each other to determine what percentage of scraps they were each allotted.

Guano Lisa hadn't been free in years, but Avdantil fed her. She got to see things well outside of dark, lonely caves and caverns. But in that last battle, when she tackled Zubat and wrapped her wings around his—

"Bite, Guano Lisa!"

Oh, she most _certainly_ bit! She reached for a soft spot just beneath Zubat's skull and sank her teeth in deep enough to draw blood. Zubat let loose a pleasurable hiss over the encounter, and obeyed without hesitation when Cyrus ordered him to retaliate with a Bite of his own.

Guano Lisa shrieked, but it was a shriek of delight rather than true pain. Yes, it hurt, but she enjoyed it.

The attacks began to blur together. Guano Lisa used Astonish, raising her voice as loud as she could. The high-pitched noise made Cyrus wince. That attack had a 30% probability of getting a Pokémon to flinch. Zubat didn't, but Cyrus did. His head was in too much agony to utter a command, so Zubat tackled her.

Guano Lisa squeaked, flapping her wings excitedly. The squeaking became faster and more ridiculous with each tackle. Finally, Guano Lisa refused to get up or answer Avdantil's commands. She was exhausted, worn out, and in too much bliss to care about her master's orders.

Even Cyrus could see the happy expression on the Pokémon's face when she collapsed. She wasn't unconscious, but it was clear the battle had come to an end. "There," he called out. "We're done. Now, if you don't mind—"

"Oh, but I _do_ mind," Avdantil snarled. He stomped into the middle of the arena and yanked his Pokémon off Cyrus's excited Zubat.

Zubat shrieked at Avdantil and chomped down on his arm. If his trainer wasn't going to utter any commands, he'd fight this person on his own. And yet even with his teeth rooted deep in the leather, all Avdantil did was laugh it off.

"Bite him again, Guano Lisa," he ordered…but Guano Lisa didn't obey. She turned her head to face Cyrus's Zubat, but that was the last straw.

Whether out of impatience or anger, Avdantil made a low growling noise. He held his Pokémon's legs tightly in his right hand, and squeezed tight enough to make her scream.

"What are you doing!?" Cyrus called out.

"Teaching her a lesson," Avdantil informed Cyrus coldly. This time, he squeezed Guano Lisa's legs tight enough for Cyrus to hear something crack. When he let go, the Pokémon's legs bent at such an angle that it was clear both were broken in multiple places.

Guano Lisa hit the floor and tried using her wings to crawl away from her trainer, but she couldn't move that fast. Avdantil quickly caught up to her, reveling in the terror on the blue bat's face. He grabbed her once more by her broken legs—which made her shriek and cry even louder—and repeatedly bashed her head-first against the side of the car. With each impact, Cyrus saw more blood.

"STOP!"

At first, Guano Lisa squeaked in pain. Her beady black eyes went toward Cyrus's Zubat, imploring him to help her because his human obviously couldn't. But as the beatings continued, Avdantil only became more violent. Very weakly, Guano Lisa flapped her wings in an attempt to get away, but her trainer wouldn't let her.

It was against trainer rules to use Pokémon to attack people, but Cyrus couldn't stand by and let this continue. "Zubat—"

Guano Lisa's voice gave out in mid-scream when her trainer snapped her wings apart. What was once blue and violet were now nothing but scarlet: twisted and contorted until they were nothing but a ragged, crumpled, unrecognizable heap. She landed on the floor in a bloody mess, trying one last time to get away. She bit down on the ground, trying to inch away from Avdantil's boot by using her mouth, but he stomped her anyway. A sickening squelch filled the room.

"You disappointing…" _Stomp_. "…worthless…" _Stomp_. "… _ungrateful_ piece of shit." This time, Avdantil threw his Pokémon with the same force he'd thrown Bidoofus's Poké Ball. She didn't struggle or even attempt to get up.

Guano Lisa's eyes went to her trainer, wondering why he'd betray her like this. "… _zu_ …" And that was it. She went completely limp, never to get up again. Avdantil stood, brushed himself off as if this were the most natural thing in the world, and reached for the door.

"Why would you do that?!" Cyrus asked. "She was your Pokémon! How long did you have her?"

Avdantil simply shrugged his shoulders. "Four years, I think? I never really got attached enough to keep count."

Cyrus was starting to hyperventilate. This was the most horrific thing he'd ever seen. The whole room smelled like viscera and there was nowhere he could turn that _didn't_ have some of Guano Lisa's blood on it. What kind of a monster could snuff out a life so callously? What the hell was this guy?!

When Avdantil took a few steps closer to him, Cyrus backtracked until his back made contact with a wet wall. "This is really getting to you, isn't it?" The Gamma just laughed as he twisted the knob to the Battle Car. "You need to relax, comrade. Zubats are easy to replace. They're—"

"Zubat…" Cyrus could feel that heat in his chest again, burning and demanding to be unleashed. He wouldn't let that happen. He'd bury it so deep that it would eventually fizzle out and turn to ash. "…Wing Attack."

Avdantil hadn't expected his opponent to order his Pokémon to attack him, nor did he plan to stick around any longer. He made a dash for the door and slammed it behind him. When Cyrus looked down, he noted just how far a trail of bloody footprints the Team Sigma man left before Guano Lisa's trail ran cold.

He was alone in the Battle Car: alone with nothing but Avdantil's mutilated Zubat, his own Zubat, and an oblivious Eevee who wanted to be released from his ball. That mangled mess on the ground was motionless.

' _Please be dead,_ ' he found himself praying. ' _The thought of you clinging onto life when you're in that much pain…_ '

Cyrus had purchased a few Potions from the Plumbum City PokéMart before going to the Metro, but all those items were with his bag in the other car…with Cynthia and Campanella. The thought of leaving Guano Lisa by herself, tossed away like some piece of trash, didn't sit well with him. This wasn't even his Pokémon, and yet he found himself empathizing with it.

It felt horrible.

Gingerly, he reached to pick up Guano Lisa's broken body, deciding he could at least take her out of the Battle Car. Once the Inter-Metro arrived in Kalium City, he could drop her corpse off at the Pokémon Center so she could be properly cremated. She wasn't garbage. Up until a couple of minutes ago, she'd been alive, perhaps even—

Zubat hissed at him when he tried to move the body. "Stop that. I'm only trying to—"

This next time, Zubat did more than hiss. "Zu…" The Pokémon's entire body shook, trembling all over with rage. He started to glow, growing taller and wider by the second. He'd evolved, transforming his tiny body into something too large and dangerous for a human to beat to a pulp.

And he was still angry.

Golbat took a step closer to Cyrus, and then another step. His head was lowered, mouth wide open to show off all his teeth. With each step, he spread his wings a little further. ' _That's an attack pose_ …'

"Golbat…" Cyrus hoped the fear he felt inside didn't go into his voice. "Return." It didn't listen. The lights flickered. "Golbat, return!"

With no warning, everything turned dark. Cyrus heard an emergency latch on the Battle Car shut, trapping him inside. The magnet train came to a sudden halt, falling about a meter to land on the tracks. The glass on the windows cracked and he was thrown halfway across the room.

No matter how many times he tried to get Golbat to go back into the ball, he didn't listen. Instead of looming over him, Golbat had now decided Cyrus was worthy of attack. "No, stop!"

But the biggest shock of all was when he tried to call Eevee out to help him. Golbat may have refused to go back in, but Eevee couldn't come out. "What the—"

People in other cars could hear him shout and scream when his Pokémon attacked him. A curious old man passed by the Battle Car to see what was going on, only to see a blood-covered hand pound on the glass part of the door, begging to be let out. Seconds later, the shadow of a giant bat swooped down and the noise worsened.


	20. Just a Test?

Cynthia spent most of the train ride studying the Kalium City map. She wanted to memorize street names, figure out which tourist attractions were worth her while, and what strategy would work best when she challenged the Kalium City Gym. Jet specialized in Fighting Pokémon, so she doubted he'd give her anywhere near as much trouble as Simon had.

She just worried about Cyrus and his Zubat. It could evolve into a short-tempered, uncontrollable Golbat any day now. If that happened, it could decide it had enough of Cyrus and attack him. Cynthia didn't want to be around for that day.

"Y'know what?" Cynthia lifted her head, realizing Campanella was speaking to her. "I know we left Myrtle's lab a good while ago, but y'all still feel like strangers to me."

"That's because you didn't stay in the Trainers Lodge with us," Cynthia reminded her. "But you're right. We haven't had much time to get to know each other, have we? Maybe we should remedy that in Kalium City."

"The hell's wrong with right now?" Campanella countered, giving Cynthia a cheesy grin. "We've still got about another hour before this train makes it Kalium, and your boy's gone AWOL." It had been quite some time since Cyrus got up to use the bathroom. "Either he fell in, he's jerkin' off, or someone's givin' 'im trouble."

"Could you go check on him?" Cynthia gave Campanella a meek smile. "I'm not sure why, but Cyrus has been kind of snippy with me today. He'll probably be happier to see you." Not that she had ever truly seen Cyrus happy. The closest she'd ever come to seeing him express anything remotely close to joy was when he defeated Simon. Even then, it was more pride than anything else. Contentment wasn't joy.

The moment Campanella got up to check on Cyrus, Cynthia heard a wolf whistle. Looking up, she saw a few of the backpackers grinning at each other, talking in hurried whispers. She leered. One boy in the group huddled up even tighter into his parka. "What?" she asked, wondering if one of them would answer her.

"Nothing," the boy lied, averting his eyes.

"Like hell it's nothing, Isaac!" the chubbiest boy in the group barked, leaning over the front of his seat. He gave his biggest, friendliest smile in Cynthia's direction, but it wasn't about to win her over. Not at all. "My friend thinks you're hot. He's just too shy to ask you if—" Isaac's mitten covered his friend's mouth, muffling the rest of his words.

"Are you available?" a blonde boy piped up. Nobody was trying to silence him. As soon as the words spilled out of his lips, Isaac looked mortified. "I know you and Cyrus work together. And you're sharing a room. And you're the only person I see that guy actively seek out. And—"

"We're friends," Cynthia clarified. "That's all." By now, she was convinced by now that Cyrus Akagi didn't feel a stirring for much of anything. Girls, boys: he'd shown no inclination either way. Most days, he kind of gave Cynthia the impression he didn't like people in general.

"You see, Isaac? No harm done! Blondie's single and ready to mingle!"

"Not that I'd date any of you in a million years."

"Aww! Don't be like that!"

Cynthia had seen enough of those boys around the Trainers Lodge, on the train, and at that party to get a pretty solid indicator of what kind of people they were. They were rowdy, impulsive, and irresponsible. Not a single one of those traits appealed to her, not even a little.

…

' _Two minutes to detonation…_ '

Just two minutes. That wouldn't even be enough time to stop in the ladies room and freshen up before the E-Bomb went off. The power would go out, all would fade to black, and hell would break loose on the Metro.

Every few minutes, Natela's pale blue eyes returned to her briefcase. She'd kept her jacket completely zipped while on the train, hiding the Team Sigma insignia on her rust-colored turtleneck. When the higher-ups designed the Gamma uniforms, they'd gone out of their way to pick a rather pedestrian design. Some teams wanted to stand out and turn all heads in their direction as an intimidation tactic; but Team Sigma wasn't one of them. They were more about practicality than anything else.

Sigmas preferred to work in the shadows: discrete, anonymous, and only noticed after they'd already taken action. Natela suspected it was all a throwback to her Beta's old KSP days. Anyone could be a government spy in those days, and she'd learned every trick Aldous was willing to teach her.

' _If I get out of this, will you teach me more?_ ' She'd calculated it so many different ways. There was only one real scenario where she'd come out of this scot free. ' _No pressure, Natela. This isn't the Big One, but another failure will cost you dearly._ '

Although train protocol insisted that trainers should only have one Pokémon out at a time, Natela had disobeyed that order and turned Bee-Bee loose in the ladies room. Once the bomb went off—assuming the impact didn't kill her—Bee-Bee would come back to her side and help her maintain order.

' _This makes us terrorists, doesn't it?_ '

By its very definition, terrorism was the act of instilling a grand sense of fear and dread across the masses. It could have political or religious undertones. This was just to send a message: to test the future capability of something far worse. Compared to the big finale, this wouldn't even be a blip on the radar. It felt big right now, but that would change.

' _Damn it…_ ' She chewed on her lip, trying her best to not look nervous. Her tongue licked the cotton candy-flavored gloss on her lips, and she wondered if any of it got on her teeth.

' _Five…_ ' She could taste it. ' _Four…_ ' She rubbed it away with her tongue, probably smearing it more than helping it. ' _Three_ …' Would it be the last thing she'd ever taste? ' _Two…_ ' There were worse things, she supposed. She just wished she could have actual cotton candy instead of just some fragrance designer's cheap imitation of—

' _One_.'

She shut her eyes, holding her other Pokémon gently in her lap. The suitcase heated up, starting to shake and rattle. A few other passengers noticed, but had no idea what was inside. Natela had made no threats, kept her low profile, and did all she could not to incite a panic.

All lights turned off, not to come back on. The train crashed back onto the tracks. People and Pokémon fell out of their seats, screaming in the dim car. Only the faint outdoor light could be seen faintly through the windows in the tunnel. Snow would cover that, and soon.

Natela had braced herself for impact, tightly wrapping her arms around her Purrloin. The purple cat purred in her lap, not that Natela thought taking a tumble into artificial night was worthy of a purr. Maybe Mr. Purrfect was doing it out of stress rather than happiness. _That_ , she'd buy.

The E-Bomb had gone off, but it didn't kill her. She was perfectly fine, which was more than all the fried electronics could say. It would take quite a lot of work to get things up and running again, but now came the next phase.

"Remain calm." She said these words softly at first: so soft that nobody heard her. "I SAID—"

All eyes turned to her: bewildered adults, terrified children sobbing into their mother's bosoms, frightened teens clinging to one another for support. She had a captive audience. _Perfect!_

"Ahem." Natela unzipped her jacket to proudly display the Team Sigma insignia. "Now that I have your complete and undivided attention, I'm here to inform you that there is no need to panic. This is just a test: a demonstration of Team Sigma's capabilities. Remain calm, remain seated, and remain quiet. If you can do those three things, no harm will come to you."

That was a lie. Her partner was one of Team Sigma's loosest cannons. Avdantil was probably off in another car, tormenting some poor trainer into battling their Pokémon to the death again. So long as he was doing that to Cyrus or Cynthia, great. The last thing she wanted to deal with was either—

"Natela?"

 _'Shit! She remembered me!_ ' Natela hissed in a breath and straightened up her posture. "Oh." She'd play it cool with a fake smile. " _You_ again? Where's your boyfriend?"

Cynthia stood, putting Spiritomb's stone down by her ankles. The Pokémon's smoky smile had turned into a frown, but it slid beneath the seat so no one could see it. The center of its glowing green eyes began to turn yellow in anger. It had neither forgotten nor forgiven what transpired at the Ædranos Ruins. "What did you do this time, Natela? Why did everything shut down?"

"Pssssssst." When Cynthia looked down, she could see Lulu hiding beneath her seat. "You know this girl, Cynthia?"

"Unfortunately, I do. Get your Poké Balls out! She's a member of Team Sigma and—why are you laughing?"

It wasn't so much a laugh as it was a snicker. Natela couldn't help it. "Sorry. It's just…you haven't figured it out yet, have you? Your Poké Balls won't work." Natela gently put her Purrloin on the floor. He tottered over, readying his claws. "Unless your Pokémon are already out, you won't be able to use them. It's the same reason the train lost power. Look." She held up the suitcase. "I came armed with a fork: an EMP."

Several people on the train had no idea what Natela was talking about, but Isaac caught on. "This bitch jammed our electronics, guys! It's the same reason they tell you not to put a magnet really close to a computer. Nothing's gonna work; not even our Poké Balls."

Natela gave Isaac a few sarcastic claps. "How lovely. One of you stayed in school long enough to take introductory physics." She hunched over to scratch behind her Purrloin's ear and locked eyes with Cynthia. "You all better pray that help comes soon. The frontier reaches subzero temperatures at night. I wonder; just how long will it take a rescue team to get here and restore power? I mean, it's been _how_ long since the Metro experienced any delays? Eight years? Nine?"

"I don't know about the Metro, but I bet it's enough time for us to teach you a lesson!" Cynthia snapped, pointing an accusatory finger at Natela. Eevee was still in his ball, but at least she still had—

"If that's the case, I suppose I have enough time to take your Spiritomb. If you want to fight me with it, be my guest. I have nothing better to do."

"She won't be fighting you alone!"

Cynthia turned around to find that Isaac and his friends were gearing up to have their companion Pokémon join the battle, too. The redheaded boy held a Baltoy in his arms and carefully placed it on the ground. "Guys, we can't just stand back and do nothing! This is Team Sigma we're talking about!"

"Sigma, Sigma, Sigma…man, _fuck_ Team Sigma!" Eric grumbled, stomping his foot with enough force to get his seat to shake. "We've got this bullshit going on with Team Rocket at home! Now you freakin' commies want to ruin our vacation, too? I don't think so! So how about it, Isaac? I think between your Baltoy and Mr. Skitty, we've got this covered." Those Pokémon could barely contain their excitement.

Natela rolled her eyes and sighed. "I was really only interested in battling Cynthia, but fine. I'll just have to take care of you first. Bee-Bee, Mr. Purrfect! Go!"

"You had both Pokémon out!?" Cynthia was furious. "The signs said—"

"Yes, yes. I know what the signs say. They also say you shouldn't be talking in quiet cars, yet here we are. Talking."

Mr. Skitty could barely contain himself. His pink tail swished up and down in delight: all too eager to have a battle. As cute and adorable as he was, and as well as he'd done in contests back in Saffron City, a fighter's spirit nestled deep in his wee feline heart.

"Okay, Jacob," Isaac whispered to his Baltoy. "Just do your best, okay? This girl is bad news."

"Jacob?" Cynthia asked, raising an eyebrow. "That's an odd name for a Pokémon."

"I named him after my grandpa," Isaac explained. "He bred his Claydol so I could have the same first Pokémon he did. He's really special." So special, in fact, he seldom put Jacob away in his Poké Ball. That Baltoy went with him everywhere.

"Isaac, are you sure you or Eric don't want me to go at her with Spiritomb?"

"No way! That girl wants to take your Pokémon! We can handle Team Sigma for you. Even if we don't end up winning, we can at least wear this bitch down so she doesn't stand a chance against you." Isaac tried to give Cynthia his most winning smile. His cheeks turned pink, adding even more color to all his freckles. "What are friends for, if not to back each other up when they need it most?"

"Oh, shuuuuut up!" Eric barked. "You're only acting like that because you li—"

"Ahem." Natela cleared her throat. "Mr. Purrfect, Fake Out to Skitty. Bee-Bee, Bug Bite to Baltoy. If you're going to waste your time talking amongst yourselves, I might as well make use of the first turn."

Mr. Skitty looked up at the bigger cat with his bravest, most stubborn face. He mewled, swishing his tail angrily. From all the noises that tiny Pokémon made, Cynthia suspected Mr. Skitty had every bit as vulgar a mouth as his trainer and was cursing Mr. Purrfect out. When Mr. Purrfect actually swatted at him, Mr. Skitty flinched.

Bee-Bee buzzed, zooming perilously closer to Isaac's Baltoy. "Aaaaaaargh. Jacob, Harden! Now!" Fortunately, Jacob the Baltoy managed to perform his attack before Bee-Bee landed. The hit still dealt damage, but thankfully not as much.

"Mr. Purrfect, Gunk Shot to Skitty. Bee-Bee, Bug Bite to Baltoy."

Natela's Pokémon followed her commands with such efficiency that Cynthia was actually a bit impressed. They didn't hesitate, not even for a split second. As soon as the words left Natela's thin lips, both Pokémon acted. There was no wait time; not even a split second to comprehend the commands. Bee-Bee and Mr. Purrfect were so tightly trained that they already knew what to do.

Mr. Skitty yelped when the poison hit him. He looked up at Eric pleadingly, wanting him to issue a command he could actually follow through with before Natela gave another order.

Jacob winced when Bee-Bee bit him. He spun around a little, trying to get Isaac's attention. "Okay, Jacob. You're going after the Combee. Hit it with Mud Slap!"

"Isaac, that's—" But Cynthia's warning came too late. The attack had no effect. "Combee's also a Flying type. Ground moves won't work on Flying Pokémon."

"Crap. Really?! I wasted a turn?" Isaac groaned, watching as Bee-Bee sniggered at his Pokémon for making such a dumb mistake. "Well, live and learn, I guess…"

Natela sighed and shook her head. "Pathetic. Just pathetic…"

"Mr. Skitty!" Eric barked, using his toughest, gruffest voice. "Use Double Slap on the Purrloin!"

Mr. Skitty squeaked out his best wicked laugh as he approached Mr. Purrfect. He wouldn't just hit the Purrloin once, or twice, but thrice! One extra hit for all the annoyance and frustration he'd given him so far! Take that!

Cynthia's eyes widened a bit when she noted how much damage Natela's Purrloin took from Mr. Skitty's attack. She saw the pride on Eric's face, too. "That was a critical hit! You've got quite an impressive Skitty, Eric!"

"Ah ha ha! Yeeeeeah, Mr. Skitty's pretty awesome. I told Cyrus about this earlier, but would you believe he fought off a—"

"Mr. Purrfect, Gunk Shot to Skitty. Bee-Bee, Air Cutter to Baltoy." That's all it took to end that part of the fight. Jacob fell first, with Mr. Skitty flopping on top of him. They couldn't be returned to their balls, either. Both trainers had to rush to the fight zone and carry off their Pokémon. Mr. Purrfect hissed at them, swatting his claw at Isaac.

"Don't worry, guys! We've got this!" Cynthia watched as the two boys she didn't know as well stepped forward. "Sparks, you're up!" A Growlithe rushed into the center of the car. The other boy, the one who asked her if she was dating Cyrus, gestured for his Pokémon to join his friend's Pokémon.

"Oh, wow!" Cynthia was impressed. "That's a Hoenn starter. Torchics are pretty rare, aren't they?" The boy shrugged. "What's his name?"

"Colonel Crispy."

"Mr. Purrfect, Gunk Shot to Torchic. Bee-Bee, Ominous Wind to Torchic." Natela wasn't going to pull any punches for the Fire Pokémon. "And for future reference, do be careful about showing your Fire Pokémon to strangers. They're so rare that I can guarantee you someone will attempt to steal it."

"Like you?" Isaac spat.

"Tch." Natela waved her hand dismissively, as though the very thought disgusted her. "The only thing you have that I want is that Spiritomb. Team Sigma could loan me a Fire Pokémon at any time." Not that she felt she needed one. Her work seldom took her out to the frontier. She'd rather stay in the cities.

Both attacks hit Colonel Crispy, causing immense damage. The little bird spun around, trying to get himself back together.

"Flame Wheel, Colonel Crispy!"

"Sparks, use Leer!"

Natela stifled another yawn, growing increasingly bored. "I stand by what I said. I'm only battling you because I'm bored. Mr. Purrfect, Gunk Shot to Torchic. Bee-Bee, Air Cutter to Growlithe."

Colonel Crispy was down and out for the count. One attack. It's all he'd managed to do for the entire fight. His trainer looked rather devastated as he picked up the little Pokémon and cradled it in his arms. "It's okay," he whispered to it. "I'm still proud of you, little guy."

"Sparks, burn that bug with an Ember!"

' _I can't stand by and let them take all the blows for me._ ' Cynthia turned to look at her Spiritomb. "Hey. Are you tired of hiding down there?" It grinned menacingly. "How about helping our friends out? They've gone through all this trouble just to save you." Maybe she'd been wrong about them being nothing but a rowdy group of boys with an awkward gal pal. "Lulu, could you—"

But Lulu was nowhere to be found. Cynthia suspected she found an opportunity to run to another car. Damn it.

' _That poor Growlithe. He's standing all by himself against—_ '

"Gunk Shot and Bug Bite to Growlithe."

"Sparks! Leer!" But it was too late. The Gunk Shot hit, and it was all over. The Growlithe collapsed, whimpering in pain as his trainer came to fetch him.

Cynthia tossed a few Potions to the group. "Take as many as you need and help your Pokémon. I've got it from here." No part of her had ever been a damsel in distress. And under no circumstances did she plan to give up her Pokémon, especially not to somebody like this horrid girl. "It looks like it's just you and me again, Natela."

And for the first time in the match, Natela laughed. "Excellent. Let's see what your Spiritomb is capable of."

"Okay, Spiritomb!" Cynthia gently placed the stone in the center of the aisle. The Pokémon's vaporous face grew large and bright. "Hypnosis to Bee-Bee!" And just like that, the Combee hit the floor and started to snooze.

"Mr. Purrfect, Assurance!"

"Feint Attack to Mr. Purrfect!" Spiritomb floated closer to the Purrloin, putting itself in close range. Mr. Purrfect grinned hungrily at the Pokémon, readying his body to use Assurance, and then Spiritomb dealt its blow. Its stone base jumped off the ground and smacked Mr. Purrfect right in the face.

This time, when the Purrloin fell, he didn't get up. "Пиздец …" Natela dragged him toward a seat so he could rest. "Bee-Bee! Wake up!" But it wasn't working. "Come ON! Snap out of it!"

The little bee's dark eyes blinked back to wakefulness. "Bee…?"

"Good! You're up! Use Bug Bite on—"

"Feint Attack!" As soon as Spiritomb chucked its rock at Bee-Bee, she fainted.

Cynthia picked up her Spiritomb and gave it a big hug. "That was _incredible!_ " she whispered to it, thrilled to see how delighted it was. "But…" She walked closer to Isaac and his gang, deciding she'd sit with them after all. "I really owe you guys a big favor. You did most of the heavy lifting."

Isaac was still cradling his unconscious Baltoy, but gave Cynthia a big smile. "Don't worry about it, okay? Any time you need us, tell me. I'll come running to your—sorry. I was gonna say rescue; but I guess you don't need me to do that, huh?"

"No, but—"

"Did you forget I'm still here?" Natela had one Pokémon cradled in each arm and was visibly angry about losing. "If you think this is over, you're sadly mistaken. I brought my comrade with me. AVDANTIIIIIIIL!" She roared down the aisle. "AVDANTIL! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU!?"

The sound of heavy footsteps pounding down the aisle became louder and louder. When the car door opened, Avdantil stepped in and gave Natela a sarcastic salute. "What's wrong, Natela? Did someone poke fun at your looks again?"

"No, stupid. I lost!" Natela whined, leaning into her partner. "Could you do me a favor and finish these trainers off? I know how much you Ferrum Town boys love violence."

Avdantil looked around the train and took mental note of how many trainers were standing up with their Pokémon. Although he clearly wanted to fight, he was at least smart enough to recognize what a bad idea that would be. "I can't. I'm out of Pokémon."

"You're _what_?!" Natela's eyes grew big as she lunged at her partner, grabbing him by the neck with her hands. "What the hell have you been doing?! I told you to hold off on that unless you saw the people we were targeting!"

' _Is she talking about Cyrus?!_ ' Cynthia's blood ran cold with fear. Her friend had been gone for a suspiciously long length of time…and something was off about Avdantil's uniform. It was so dim in the corridor that it took her a moment to realize the dark stains on the man's jacket and pants were blood. ' _Oh no…_ '

' ** _Something died in the Battle Car!_** ' Spiritomb seemed a little too excited over that. ' ** _And something's begging for its life right now! CAN WE GO SEE IT!?_** '

"Guys…?" Even though Team Sigma was trying to escape the train, Cynthia wasn't concerned about that right now. She'd deal with them later. "Stay here and watch my stuff. I need to check the Battle Car."

"What? Why?"

"Something's wrong, Isaac! I need to find out what happened!"


	21. Inside the Battle Car

Cynthia's heart was pounding so fast that she thought she'd faint before she made it to the Battle Car. ' _I'm so stupid! I should have noticed something was wrong when Cyrus didn't come back!'_

It was just a hunch that he'd be in the far back of the train. The bathrooms were there, and he'd initially left his seat to use it. Natela's partner came from that direction. Maybe the two things weren't connected, but Cynthia had a sinking feeling they were. Did they run into each other? Was Cyrus tied up in a battle with Team Sigma?

' _Avdantil was covered in blood, too. Whatever happened back there…oh please…_ _ **please**_ _tell me you're not involved…_ '

No part of her worried about Campanella. Cynthia was pretty sure that woman could be left alone anyplace in the world with just a pocket knife and be able to fend for herself. She couldn't say the same for Cyrus. He was far more anxious than he wanted people to believe. If something bothered him, he'd rather keep his mouth shut than tell someone they hurt his feelings.

And today, of all days, would be the worst. Cyrus drank a little too much the night before and didn't get a lot of sleep. All day, he'd been lethargic, surly, and hungover. Bright lights and loud noises made him wince. A particularly vicious opponent like Avdantil could take full advantage of that.

At the very end of the train, Cynthia saw the red markings of the Battle Car. Glancing down, she saw Avdantil's bloodied boot prints leading toward the passenger cars. There were other things mixed with the blood and the smell was unbearable. The more she looked at the tracks, the more she was convinced some kind of viscera was in it. That probably meant she'd be walking into the aftermath of a death match.

That kind of battling was illegal in Sinnoh and most other regions, but the police still sometimes found underground clubs where people battled their Pokémon to the death. When Cynthia went on her first Pokémon journey, Professor Rowan said he'd stop sponsoring her if she so much as entered one of those clubs. It never appealed to her, though. The very thought of killing a Pokémon for sport was too upsetting to even consider.

But it wasn't just people living in rural areas, desperately clinging to the old ways. Every time the news reported the discovery of another illegal club, they'd also drop the names of every high profile trainer and businessmen found inside. For Sinnoh, the clubs were for the rich and powerful: anyone who could afford entry and was willing to kill a Pokémon or two for the sake of an adrenaline rush.

Cynthia knew that some regions still accepted this practice. She'd never gone to one of those regions, but knew a few trainers who had. In those countries, nothing was off the table.

Kinzo didn't condone death matches, but it didn't exactly condemn them either. The government acknowledged death was a potential risk in battles, yet did nothing more than warn trainers to exercise caution. This type of battle was only permitted outside of major cities, and the Metro didn't operate by those rules. Point A and Point B played by Pokémon League standard rules, but the route between those two points was no man's land.

As Cynthia followed the bloodied footprints down the corridor, her heart started to beat more heavily. It was getting harder to breathe. ' _What am I going to find at the end? What died?'_ Her grip on Spiritomb's stone tightened, afraid to drop it. So far, it had been rather well-behaved. No macabre remarks, no cruel snickering…and for that, Cynthia was relieved. She couldn't handle that right now.

 _'Did Avdantil kill one of Cyrus's Pokémon?_ '

That horrible thought refused to leave her head. As much as she didn't want Cyrus to lose a Pokémon, she _especially_ didn't want him to lose Professor Myrtle's Eevee. He'd only had it for a couple of weeks, but she could already tell how much it loved him. Maybe Cyrus was too much of a grump to admit it, but she could tell he'd bonded with Eevee, too. If anything happened to it, then—

A powerful blast of wind roared outside, rattling the windows and shaking the car. Cynthia jumped in surprise and dropped Spiritomb's stone. The Pokémon's immediate reaction was to hide itself inside its stone in an attempt to protect itself. Once it realized a predator wasn't anywhere to be found, the ghost came out again and made a bunch of angry noises at its trainer. Cynthia couldn't understand what Spiritomb was saying, but she was pretty sure it was cursing her out. "Sorry! Sorry…I didn't mean to do that…"

' _What's gotten into you, Cynthia!?_ _Pull yourself together!_ _You won't get there any faster on jelly legs!'_ But even with her mental pep talk, she wasn't feeling all that peppy. She was terrified. By this point, she could barely walk. As much as she'd tried to keep her legs sturdy, they refused to stop trembling. ' _Please…please, don't be dead in there…_ '

At the very end of the train, she saw the Battle Car's bright red door. Cyrus was on the other side: dead or alive. Very cautiously, Cynthia took a few steps closer. A tall, muscular silhouette was manhandling the door to the car, trying to get in. "Hn…hnnnnnngh…rrrrrrrgh…" Who was that? Whoever they were, they were—

"Open up, dammit! Hrrrrrgh!"

"Campanella?!" Sure enough, the figure turned around to look at her. Oh, thank Arceus it was someone she knew! "We ran into trouble!"

"No shit, kid!" Campanella had one of her big combat boots pressed to the Battle Car door. Both of her strong arms were trying their best to pry the door open, but with no luck. "I heard someone say the Intra-Metro ain't had so much as a delay in nine freakin' years! Now, suddenly, the power goes out? The hell's going on?!"

"Team Sigma bombed the train," Cynthia explained, and she was _still_ angry about that. "Not an explosive, though. It let loose some kind of pulse that fried our electronics. Even my Poké Balls won't work."

"Chu?" Campanella's Raichu wiggled her brown ears and moved closer to Cynthia. "Chuuuu?" Her long tail tapped Eevee's Poké Ball. Already, Cynthia could feel her Pokémon wriggling around inside. Thank Arceus. "Raichu chu?"

Campanella chuckled and patted the top of her Pokémon's head. "Raichu wants to know if you need a little juice to get your Eevee out." As if to confirm Campanella translated her words correctly, Raichu made a happy sound and let her yellow cheek pads crackle with extra electricity.

"Oh! Yes, please. That would be great, Raichu! Thanks!" Cynthia held out Eevee's Poké Ball and watched as Raichu extended her tail to touch it. When the lightning bolt tip touched the button and Cynthia saw the familiar red glow, she smiled at the Pokémon. "You're such a helpful lady."

Raichu seemed to relish the attention. She swished her tail back and forth in playful, lively motions. "Rai!"

Campanella smirked and gave her giant electric mouse a hearty pat on the back. Light blue crackles of static came up with her fingertips. "Raichu's a real trooper. I've had to use 'er as a backup generator on expeditions before. Ol' gal really packs a wallop! She ain't enough to recharge the whole train, but I've used her to jumpstart my car a few times. She's—"

"Wait!" Cynthia's eyes grew really big. "That's it!" She took Campanella by both hands and let loose a quick, nervous laugh of relief. "There's no way you're the only person who left an Electric Pokémon out! Even if you are, I know how you can restore power!"

"I'm listenin', kid. Go on."

"Talk to the other trainers and find out who left an Electric Pokémon out. Get Raichu to reactivate everyone's Poké Balls: just like she did for Eevee." To prove Raichu fixed the Poké Ball, Cynthia called Eevee out.

Initially, Eevee was happy to be let loose. That joy immediately turned into annoyance when he realized the entire train was cold and not moving. He looked up at his trainer, gave her an indignant look, and growled. Cynthia tried to reach over and pet him, but Eevee wasn't having any of that nonsense right now. As soon as the girl's hand was over his head, Eevee put his mouth and teeth on her. At least he didn't bite down. This was just a warning not to do it again.

"A'ight. I reckon I follow what you're thinkin'. You want everyone to team up and get the train moving again. That right?"

Cynthia nodded her head, but there was one more thing. "We should probably tell the other Metro offices not to send another train. We don't want anything to crash into us. Once we care of that, we can focus on turning the heat back on. If the Pokémon aren't exhausted after that and the tracks are still fine, maybe we can restart the train and make it to the Kalium City Metro Station."

It just left her wondering what Natela meant when she said the E-Bomb was just a test. Did Team Sigma have something far grander planned? If so, when and where would it be? Cynthia could feel a thick dread-filled lump building in her throat.

Campanella didn't seem to notice anything was wrong, though. Maybe Cynthia's tough girl façade was good enough to fool her into thinking everything was okay. Good. Maybe it would work on Cyrus, too. If he was inside that Battle Car; the last thing he needed was to see her freak out.

"Y'know…this whole time? I was under the assumption _Cyrus_ was the smart kid. You're a smart cookie, too!"

Okay…she kind of needed to hear that right now. Her pulse stabilized a little and it was a bit easier to breathe. Cynthia's smile turned a bit bashful. "Thanks, Campanella. But…um…is it okay to ask for one last favor?"

"Yeah, sure. Whatcha need?"

"May I borrow your Ambipom? If we tag-team on the door, I think we can open it and—"

A loud slam came from the other side of the door, causing both women to jump back in surprise. Cynthia had to cover her mouth with a hand to hold back a surprised squeak. Not wanting to go anywhere near whatever made that sound, Campanella decided to run off with Raichu. A weaker thud came after that.

"Ambipom!" Cynthia knew this wasn't her Pokémon, but she'd pull out her foreign badges if she had to. "Try to open the door!" Luckily, Campanella's Ambipom was a rather obedient creature and recognized Cynthia as a friend. The big purple monkey tried her best to force the latch open, but it was no use. She grunted and strained just like her trainer had a few minutes ago. "I don't even care if you have to break the door to get in there! Something's injured!"

' ** _Something's lost a LOT of blood, too!_** ' Spiritomb corrected her, hissing out a little laugh. ' ** _Left to its own devices, it will bleed out in another—_** '

"SPIRITOMB!" Cynthia held the stone in both of her hands and gave her Pokémon a horrified, angry look. "That's enough! You're not helping!" But that didn't seem to deter it. The ghost kept sniggering: all too eager to see the carnage. What a mean-spirited creature! "Whatever or whoever's in there—"

"Cynthia?" This whole time, she'd suspected Cyrus was in the Battle Car. She didn't want to be right, but there he was. "Get me out of here…"

"Hang on, Cyrus! I'm coming!" It was too dark to see what was going on in there, but she could hear him loud and clear. He sounded like he was in bad shape. "Campanella's Ambipom is trying to break the lock right now! What happened?"

The Battle Car had one window on the door. Even in the dim light, Cynthia could see Cyrus's palm pressed against the glass. Several parts of his hand were coated in blood, but she couldn't tell if it was his or a Pokémon's…not that it mattered. The very sight of it made her skin crawl. He started to say something, and then the hand disappeared. A loud shriek came after that: a sound Cynthia recognized all too well as a Golbat.

' _It evolved…'_

Over the past week, Cyrus had spent a lot of time leveling up his Zubat. At first, Cynthia thought he'd stop after it learned Bite—after all, a Dark move would work well against Simon's Psychic Pokémon—but he kept training it. Eventually, she caught on that Cyrus was doing this to reduce his chances of having to go in for a rematch. If he couldn't beat Bronzor's defenses fairly, then he would simply have to out-level it.

Cynthia warned him that it was dangerous. Over-leveled Pokémon sometimes ignored their trainer's commands and goofed off in battles, but this was her first time actually seeing a Pokémon attack its trainer. ' _I don't understand! Why would it do that? Does it hate Cyrus that much?_ '

That didn't make any sense to her, either. She'd watched him in the Battle Rooms enough times to know that while he was a strict trainer, he was also considerate. Eevee and Golbat were both taken for routine checkups and given plenty of breaks between battles. If Cynthia offered to share Eevee and Spiritomb's treats with Cyrus's Pokémon, he never said no. Eevee even slept in the bed with him at night. Why would his Golbat suddenly turn on him?

"Keep going, Ambipom!" By this point, she was practically begging the Pokémon to open the door. She knew Ambipom was trying her best, but that just wasn't good enough. "Hold on. Maybe I can—"

The red emergency lights came on. A few seconds later, Cynthia heard a low hum and the sound of circulating air. The train's heating system was back on. That was much faster than Cynthia thought it would be, but she wasn't complaining. If anything, she was grateful Campanella found what she needed.

The next time Ambipom tried to open the door; Cynthia heard the metallic click of a magnetic lock. "Good job, Ambipom! I think I can take it from here. You can go back to your trainer." Ambipom wasted no time and rushed in the opposite direction.

' _Get a hold of yourself, Cynthia. Keep it together. Move…move…_ ' She took a couple of deep breaths and quickly looked at her Pokémon. "Be careful, guys. There's no telling what we're gonna find in there. If something comes at you, attack. Don't even think. Just _attack_."

With the latch open, she and her Pokémon hurried in. Less than a second after Eevee's paws touched the ground, Cynthia slammed the door shut behind him. The last thing this train needed was for Cyrus's rogue Golbat to fly out of the Battle Car and attack the other passengers. She could hear it, but she couldn't see it. "Cyrus! Cyrus, where are you!?"

It was hard to see in there. The emergency lighting made the walls and floors red. Everything else—including the gruesomely large blood smatterings on the walls—looked black. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but she could see a human-sized ball defensively curled up and shivering to left of the door. "CYRUS!"

He didn't even look up at her. He kept his head tucked between his arms and knees. Since his back was to the wall, that left only his arms, legs, and the top of his head vulnerable for another attack…but it was clear those areas had already taken some bad hits.

At some point in the attack, Cyrus's jacket had come completely off. It was halfway across the car and torn into ribbons. He still had his shirt on, though barely. In several places, Cynthia could see his blood-soaked undershirt as well as his ribs. The scratches on his legs were deep enough to not only tear through his pants, but soak his entire right thigh and left calf in blood.

' _Oh god…_ ' The air felt thin. She had to take deep breaths just to get enough oxygen. Cynthia knew the train wasn't moving, but the entire Battle Car felt like it was spinning. It needed to stop. She was going to fall…collapse…

"It's Golbat. That Team Sigma guy dragged me in here. He wanted—"

"Hold on! Let me help you first!" By this point, Cynthia was in full-blown panic mode. As scared as she was of Golbat coming over to attack Cyrus again, she needed to make sure her friend didn't bleed to death first. "All I have is an old first aid kit. I don't even know if it's any good anymore." It would have to do, though. It was better than nothing.

Cynthia's family insisted she needed to learn basic first aid before they'd even consider letting her go on a Pokémon journey. She knew how to disinfect an injury, do the Heimlich maneuver, perform CPR, make a tourniquet to staunch bleeding, make a splint, and so on. Two of those things were about to come in handy.

She unceremoniously dumped the contents of the kit onto the floor, letting the supplies scatter everywhere. This was an emergency! She couldn't afford to be precise and neat about this, not when Cyrus was bleeding out! "Did Golbat bite you anywhere? I can use an Antidote. I know it's for Pokémon, but it's all I've got. I'm sorry…"

"Cynthia, wait. I—" When the spray hit Cyrus's skin, he winced and let loose a hiss through his nose. Cynthia expected him to snap at her or maybe push her away; but he didn't. Instead, he curled up into an even tighter ball and begged her not to do it again.

"Cyrus, this is bad. _Really_ bad! You need to go to a hospital, pronto!" She could see the dread on his pale face, draining what little color he had left. "I'm not making this up! I'm serious! Golbats are poisonous! If you don't let a professional look at those bites; you're risking gangrene, sepsis, and—"

"I can't afford it." Was he serious right now!? _That_ was all he could think about!? "Professor Myrtle didn't offer us any health insurance. I think the hospitals only give free healthcare to the Kinzonians. I don't—"

"Did any part of what I just said register with you or did you lose too much blood to understand me? You could be looking at paralysis, amputation, or even death if you don't go!"

Cynthia watched her partner's fingers curl, trying to dig into the concrete of the car. She wasn't sure what he was more afraid of—doctors or doctor bills—but something had Cyrus riled up beyond the mere pain. "Look…" She twisted more bandages onto his injuries. They were soaked in Antidote, and that was as close as Cyrus would permit her to spraying him with more Pokémon products. "I can go with you. While the doctor looks at you, I can take our things to the Trainers Lodge, get us a nice room, and—"

A guttural, low growl came from the corner of the room. "Goooooooool..."

Cyrus proceeded to take cover, bracing himself for another round of attacks. He shut his eyes and waited, knowing what was coming. Cynthia had never seen a Pokémon look that angry before, and she instantly knew why Cyrus was so afraid. Golbats had a battling stance and a killing stance. This thing wanted to kill him.

She didn't even take a moment to think about what she was doing. She wrapped her arms around her friend protectively; making it clear to Golbat that he'd have to go through her first. "Stop!" But Golbat came closer, stomping his navy blue feet, and flapped his purple wings. "I mean it. CUT IT OUT!"

Golbat readied himself for an attack, lowering his head and keeping his wings spread. When he started charging, Cynthia opened her wallet and flashed her foreign badges. She hated to do that, but this was an emergency. She could feel Cyrus's hot blood soaking into her clothes. Even though his blood felt warm, his body was starting to feel cold. They didn't have much time.

When Golbat saw the badges, he gave Cynthia a look like she'd just betrayed him. He couldn't believe she'd pull out a different set of badges, just to make him obey! But he did do as he was told and sit down. He grumbled, but at least he gave Cynthia enough space to finish patching up Cyrus.

"What…did you do to make him…listen…?"

"I'll tell you later. Let's just focus on—Cyrus? Cyrus! Stay with me!" Once or twice, she squeezed his hand. If he squeezed back, she knew he was okay. ' _He's lost too much blood. This isn't good._ ' She tried to tighten the tourniquets, but they were already soaking through. "Come on. Hang in there!"

"I know…why…" Cyrus's eyes were fluttering, finding it hard to stay open. This worried Cynthia. Each time he did it any longer than a normal blink, she patted his cheek with a cool hand. "Avdantil…he…" But it was too hard to talk. It took more strength than Cyrus should have used, but he pointed to the edge of the car.

There, crumpled up in a ball, was a dark mess. It was too small to be a Bidoof, but Cynthia could see part of a crumpled wing. She could feel the stomach acid bubbling up her esophagus and she couldn't hold it anymore. Even without going over there, she knew that was Avdantil's Zubat: _Guano Lisa_. She only remembered the name because it was so crude.

"That's…" Guano Lisa may have fought against them, but it wasn't her fault. Pokémon couldn't choose who they battled, not after they were captured. "Did you and Golbat—"

"…no…" He tried to say something else, but it didn't make any sense. "…Avdantil…kicked…screamed…used a boot…"

"Cyrus! Cyrus, hey. Hold on. Stay with me!" More lights came on in the Battle Car, including the fluorescent light. Once fully illuminated, Cynthia realized she had underestimated how much blood her friend had lost. Cyrus's skin was almost white. In fact, it was grayish-white: like how Cynthia's grandfather looked right before he died in his hospice room. ' _No…no, no. Please…please, no…_ '

From the adjacent cars, she could hear more voices. There was a loud commotion. "Look for other people!" she heard a man call out. He sounded vaguely familiar. "Don't leave anyone behind!"

This was her one chance to save him. If her voice clammed up now, they'd be left behind and he'd die. "IN HERE!" When Cynthia shouted, Cyrus grimaced. His lips moved, but she didn't catch what he said. "Sorry! What was that?"

"Not…so…loud…"


	22. Raichu to the Rescue!

What kind of conductor was he, allowing something like this to happen!? "We're done for, Kadabra! They're gonna have my badge for this! I'll never command a Metro train again as long as I live!"

And that would hurt so much. Ever since he was a little boy and played with his first toy train set, this was all he ever wanted to do in life. He loved his job, took great pride in it, and wore his Metro uniform even when he was off duty. The entire Kinzonian nation relied on the Metro system to transport its citizens and visitors to the inhabited areas. Things had gone just fine for nine perfect years! Why, why, why, oh why did _his_ train have to be the one that screwed up!?

"What am I gonna tell my family, assuming we even get out of this alive?"

Would his wife pack her things, take their boys, and head back to Unova without him? Or would he be leaving here in a black metal box, only for his grieving family to hear he froze to death alongside all the poor passengers he was sworn to protect at all costs?

"Kadabra."

The conductor paced back and forth, looking outside as the snow began to accumulate on top of the tunnel. Most of the Plumbum/Kalium route was underwater. As bad a disaster as this was, it could have been much worse. They were above ground. That, at least, was some cause for rejoice…but the sky was turning darker and the train was turning colder.

The Kinzonian Intra-Metro System typically kept the interior of all trains at a cozy, comfortable 18° _C, but the conductor could already see his breath. His hands turn stiff and brittle. When night came, there would be no hope. The passengers could huddle together and maybe even pull out whatever coats and blankets they carried in their bags; but how long would that help them once the climate reached subzero temperatures?_

 _"_ _Oh dear, oh dear…" At least he still had his Kadabra. That Pokémon had been through thick and thin with him ever since his grade school days. "I guess if all else fails, we can hold onto each other for warmth and just pray that somebody—"_

 _Boom! The conductor yelped in surprise and hugged his Pokémon for dear life. The door fell off its hinges and hit the floor with a rude, unfriendly_ _whomp_ _. When the dust cleared, a tough-looking woman with bright red hair and big boots stomped in. "Wh-wh-what d-do you—"_

 _"_ _You're the conductor?" the woman asked in a thick Johto accent. The conductor nodded his head so fast that his cap slipped and fell over his face. The woman held out a calloused hand, obviously wanting him to shake it. "Name's Campanella. I'm your ticket outta here."_

 _"_ _O-oh? How do you figure—"_

 _"_ _Power's out, but Raichu and I are gonna fix it. We need to borrow yer radio an' shoot a message. Ya need to tell the central station not to send another train. Not unless they plan on usin' it to push us closer to Kalium City."_

 _The conductor got up and nodded his head. "Y-yes, Miss Campanella! I'll relay that message the moment you fix the radio. I'll also call the Kalium Gym Leader to see what we can do to evacuate the train. All Kinzo Gym Leaders have emergency dispatch teams, you see…"_

 _"_ _You hear that, Raichu?" Campanella grinned and planted herself in the conductor's seat. "We might as well make that announcement! So…" She held the microphone in her hand and smirked at the flustered man in front of her. "How's this fucking thing work?"_

 _It took a couple of attempts—which embarrassingly led to the entire train hearing Campanella ask_ _is this thing on?_ _once or twice—but she finally figured it out. "Hey, y'all. We're tryin' ta restore power to the train, but I need your help. If you've got an Electric Pokémon, come to the front of the train right now."_

 _Almost immediately, Campanella could hear the commotion. People were rushing to the front, eager to have their Pokémon assist. "Go make your call, chief. We're wasting daylight."_

 _"_ _Right, right!" She could hear the conductor thank her, but she wasn't even paying attention to that anymore._

 _Her attention was more toward the loud commotion on the other side of the door she kicked down. Once she walked back into the hallway, she could see dozens of passengers of various ages standing together, all eager to help. One old man with half a head of frizzy white hair stepped forward, a Plusle lovingly held in his arms. "Are you the lady who got the radio working?"_

 _"_ _Yeah, but Raichu—"_

 _They didn't even give her time to finish. Everyone burst into cheers and applause. Campanella felt her heart flutter. Even her face felt hot, like she was going to cry if this kept up for too long._ It had been years since anyone other than her boyfriend praised her. Everyone else just saw her as a washed up deadbeat with her best years behind her, or an ex-con who would inevitably end up back in prison.

Aside from Professor Myrtle, she'd started to feel like the whole world had given up on her. Seeing all these strangers thank her for stepping up to help them made her feel like a conquering hero, and she cherished it. She'd probably cherish it her whole life. "So…uh…y'all _all_ have Electric Pokémon?" Nearly forty trainers held up a ball. "Holy shit!"

"Um…" one teenage boy backtracked. "Technically, I don't. I used a TM to teach Thunderbolt to my Sentret. Will that work?"

"Hell yeah! Come on, kid. Let's go!"

…

"Get a move on, y'all! Those snowmobiles are gonna take you into Kalium City! If you're okay, they'll take ya to the Trainers Lodge. If y'ain't alright, you're going to—where the fuck're you takin' em, again?"

"Please stop swearing," the emergency responder grumbled. "There are children present." To his annoyance, Campanella was still looking at him. He could hear her heavy breathing through her nose, blowing out puffs like some kind of impatient dragon Pokémon. "…Kalium General Hospital."

"If you little fuckers ain't alright, you're goin' to Kalium General!" By this point, she was doing it just to piss the guy off. She was tired of people telling her how to talk, how to walk, and how to behave out here. They weren't the ones who saved the day.

Still, she was grateful that help came as quickly as it did. She didn't know how long this sort of thing typically took, but she'd have never guessed Kalium City would send emergency responders out to the train in less than half an hour. They must have been very close to the city!

What was even more impressive to her was how so many trainers stepped up to help the train get back into working order. The conductor was even convinced he could get it back to the station—though he didn't want to risk any more passengers being on it, just in case something went wrong. Sweet guy. She tried to give him a high five, but he didn't understand what she was asking for. Instead, he thought she was going to slap him and he begged Kadabra to make her go away.

The fact these complete strangers banded together to do something so incredible warmed her heart. ' _I wonder if this is that "kind Kinzonian spirit" crap the propaganda books like to blab about._ '

Campanella had been in Kinzo long enough to read a bunch of the government-sponsored tourism brochures. Many of them were so ham-fisted that she couldn't take them seriously, but they made for a good laugh when she was bored or running errands for Myrtle. Those brochures insisted that classism was—aside from the League and government officials—not an issue out here. The government took care of many parts of people's lives, such as healthcare and education. All a Kinzonian had to focus on was working hard and making his country a better place to live. It was the sappiest, cheesiest piece of bullshit she'd ever read…but she could kind of feel it right now.

Almost a hundred Kalium City residents had turned out to assist passengers. They didn't even know the people on the train, but risked this crazy-ass weather just to help them. These were _volunteers_. That kind of thing wouldn't fly in Johto. Nobody gave a shit out there.

"Attention!" a female emergency responder called out with a loudspeaker. "Unless your Pokémon is a service Pokémon, please return it to its Poké Ball until we are back within city limits."

When Campanella heard that, her mood dropped. Just a moment ago, she'd felt on top of the world. Hearing that woman talk made her feel like a jackass for calling her Pokémon out in the first place. "You heard the lady, girls. In ya go…"

She seldom called her Pokémon out, if only because she didn't want to see the looks on their faces when she told them it was time to go back in. For five unbroken, horrible years; they remained in prison inventory. When Campanella finally got them back, she'd already transformed from a spunky girl with big dreams and too much ambition into a washed out, bitter person who hid her outrage beneath a wall of prison muscle, stubborn toughness, and cigarette smoke. She'd had her Pokémon team since she was ten years old. It took them nearly two minutes to squint and scrutinize her before they realized the scary-looking bitch in front of them was their person: their Campanella.

Prison hadn't broken her. _That_ did.

Raichu and the others had ever complained to her, but she could see it in their eyes. Going back in that ball was like sending them back to prison. They hadn't done anything wrong. Punishing them, just because she—

"Are you coming or not, lady?" A man gestured for her to get inside his snowmobile. "I wanted to talk to you, anyway. That group of backpackers told me you're the one responsible for turning the power back on. According to them, you're the hero of the day."

When the door shut, Campanella quickly put Raichu and Ambipom's Poké Balls back on her belt and buckled in. The less she thought about their sweet, disappointed faces; the better. "And what are you, exactly? Some toady for Kinzo National News?"

"You don't have to be rude about it, but yes. I'm a reporter. What happened in there? I know everyone came out here because of the distress signal. I think the conductor said it was an E-Bomb? I don't even know what an E-Bomb is."

Campanella shrugged her shoulders and placed her feet on the dashboard. "That makes two of us, pal. I ain't got a fuckin' clue."

"And was _Team Sigma_ really behind this? I have such a hard time believing that!" Campanella raised one of her eyebrows at the reporter. "Look, I've lived in Kalium City my whole life. When _I_ think of Team Sigma, I think of data breaches. They're more likely to steal somebody's credit card information than bomb a train."

"I don't know what to tell you, then," Campanella snapped back, "except that Team Sigma bombed the train."

Her eyes went back toward the snowy landscape. It never snowed like this in Azalea Town. Once her job for Myrtle was done and she flew back home, she just prayed her parents hadn't sold their ranch on the outskirts of town. Going back there to tend to the farm sounded like a nice way to retire. ' _But girls like me don't retire, do we? We just keep doin' what we're doin' 'cause we're good at it and the pay's good. I'm just lucky I'm working for an honest, law-abiding citizen this time._ '

For now, anyway. There was no telling what would come next once Myrtle got her precious data…because that's all it boiled down to. She didn't give a damn about most people.

"Okay. So for the sake of argument, let's say Team Sigma _did_ attack the train." Great. Now he was going to be a skeptic. "Where do you think they went?"

"Well, they ain't morons. I reckon they switched out their clothes and passed themselves off as stranded passengers." It's what she'd do. "Either that or they broke out of the train and took their chances in the wild. I'm kind of hoping they did the latter."

That surprised the reporter. "Why?"

"Just so a little karma can be served up today. The world doesn't get enough of it, especially not out here." Most of the snowmobiles were headed back for the city. Only a few were left. A big brute of a guy rushed in and threw himself inside the train. Some of the others cheered him on. Campanella snorted out a laugh and pointed. "Who's that guy? What a fuckin' show-off."

"Oh, that? That was the Gym Leader…"


	23. Kalium City's Gallant Juggernaut

"Come on! Again? _Please_? I took the first train in the morning just so I could battle you!"

As sweet a sentiment as that was, Jet Melkadze had already beaten this girl twice since 8:00 AM. ' _How did this child make it past Simon? Did he hit a slump or something?_ '

He didn't want to believe the rumors. Apparently, some foreign kid made Simon lose his composure and beat him on the first try. After that, Simon kept making mistake after mistake. An entire swarm of people challenged him and he had to give over a multitude of Lead Badges.

This little girl, Tamari Beridze, was one of those lucky victors. She was so confident in defeating one Gym Leader that she thought she'd immediately be ready to face the next one. That was fair. More people had Pokémon with type advantages over Fighting Pokémon than they did Psychic Pokémon, but Jet put that into consideration when he designed his team. The last thing he needed were people thinking he was the punchline to Simon Morozov's cruel joke.

"You have potential," Jet told the little girl, "and I can tell that a fierce Kinzonian spirit burns inside you. You're a fighter, Tamari! I like that! But…"

But Tamari only had one Pokémon: a Dunsparce named Dunderhead. This was the second time since 8:00 AM that Jet's Hariyama made the damn thing faint, but he'd been a good sport and let Tamari use a Revive. March was the tail end of the slow season. He had nothing better to do, but this was just embarrassing.

"…I think it ends here, at least for today. There isn't much more your Dunsparce can do."

"Aww, come on! Dunderhead tried his best! Sure, beating Simon was a pain in the butt, but—"

Before Tamari could finish; all the lights in the Kalium Gym shut off. When they came back on, everything was illuminated in scarlet. Tamari looked very confused, but Jet knew what was going on. Every Kinzo gym was set up with this feature. If the lights started flashing in red, it meant that there was an emergency either within or around Kalium City.

Due to the extreme nature of the Kinzo region's climate, every representative of the Pokémon League was expected to be ready to assist their town at a moment's notice. They managed safety drills and oftentimes served as the heads of local disaster recovery plans. This typically meant winter storms and excessive amounts of snow, but there had been a few cases in the past fifty years that were significantly more dangerous than that.

Most elite trainers—Jet included—were old enough to remember what happened to Wolfram Town in the far north. When he was Tamari's age, the power plant malfunctioned and released a massive cloud of radioactive debris into the atmosphere. That was twenty years ago, but the north was still suffering the long term effects of the disaster.

Luckily, Kalium City was so far south that they hadn't been affected. Still, two decades was enough time for an entire generation of Pokémon trainers to mature and flourish without that stain on their psyches. The younger Kinzonians knew what Wolfram Town was and what happened out there, but it was just another page in the history books to them. It wasn't on the forefront of their minds.

For Jet, it was the worst case scenario: a man-made disaster no amount of preparation could resolve. As soon as the red disaster lights started flashing around his gym, he froze. It was usually nothing too serious, but he never knew for sure. Not until he saw the details.

"Mr. Melkadze?" Hearing Tamari's voice dragged him out of his moment of panic. "What's that light mean?"

"It means there's been an emergency, little comrade. I'll need to leave the gym. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, sir." Tamari hadn't come to the Kalium Gym alone. Ever since she started her Pokémon journey, she'd gone everywhere with her older brother Grigol. Jet still remembered battling that boy just a couple of years ago. It was the first time he'd ever lost to a Chansey. "My sister and I understand. Do whatever you have to do."

"Wait!" Tamari rushed up the stairs, trying to get closer to Jet. "Maybe we can help! I know I'm still new at this, but I have a Lead Badge. And Grigol's gotten all the way to a Mercury Badge!"

Jet's badge was the Potassium Badge. His fiancée, Kai, gave out the Mercury Badge in Hydrargyrum City. ' _Kid, I fought your brother two years ago. It's taken him_ _ **this**_ _long to beat my lady? For real?_ ' That was all he needed to hear to realize how much help these siblings were going to be: _none_. If they tagged along, Jet would have to juggle his heroics with babysitting.

"Would you excuse me, just for a minute?"

"Yes, Mr. Melkadze," Grigol replied. Tamari tried to follow Jet into his office so she could eavesdrop on the conversation, but her big brother got a hold of her first. "No, no. Let him work! My goodness, Tamari! It's like I can't take you anywhere!"

Once the door was shut, Jet saw the flashing yellow light by the monitor. It meant he had an incoming message. When he pushed the button, a terrified-looking Metro conductor appeared on the screen. "Jet! Oh, thank goodness you picked up! This is Metro Train K-11. We need your help!"

"I'll be more than happy to give it, K-11. What is your emergency?"

"Well…you see…" The conductor closed his eyes and mumbled a few things under his breath, trying to get his nerves under control before he shared the whole story. "We're on an Inter-Metro line: Plumbum City to Kalium City. We're stuck somewhere in between. The train malfunctioned."

Well, _that_ was highly unusual! The trains hadn't malfunctioned in years! "How so? Did somebody jump in front of the—"

"Oh, good heavens! No! The train lost power!"

Wait. That didn't make any sense. If the train lost power, then how was the conductor able to send him a message? "Are you using a backup generator, K-11?"

"No, comrade. We had a quick-thinker on the train: a tourist with a Raichu. She and everyone else with an Electric Pokémon gave us just enough power to talk to you and turn the heat back on. I don't know if it's enough to get the train levitating properly again. Can you send people to come and help us?"

"I'm one step ahead of you, K-11. I'm forwarding your information to the Kalium emergency dispatch channel right now. We can have people out there in less than an hour." The Pokémon Center, Trainers Lodge, PokéMart, and other hot spots for Kalium City's resident Pokémon trainers would be notified of the incident. All trainers with four or more Kinzo badges would be asked to assist in the rescue effort. "Do you know what caused the outage?"

"It was Team Sigma."

Jet couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at that. ' _That seems a little outside their comfort zone. Either they're under new management or they're getting more daring._ '

Occasionally, people spotted Gammas lurking around town. It never was anything serious, though. They'd just congregate somewhere with their laptops, whisper over drinks, and leave. There were even rumors that one of the Betas lived in Kalium City. That's what the green belts were, right? People insisted they'd seen one with a green belt…

Up to this point, the biggest scandal that Team Sigma took credit for was the data breach of an Elite Four member's confidential records. Boswellia, third in the circuit, was foreign. She immigrated during a time when Kalos banned its citizens from entering Kinzo. It always struck people as a tad suspicious that an exception was made specifically for her, but Premier Beauclair had personally given Boswellia amnesty. Team Sigma found out why…and shared it with the whole country.

Leaking a controversial Elite Four member's personal secrets to the masses was one thing. Sabotaging an Intra-Metro train was something else entirely. This could actually kill people!

"I'm still hazy on the details, Comrade Melkadze. All I know is one of Team Sigma's Gammas detonated a bomb in a passenger car. It fried everything on the train. Is that going to be a problem? What should—"

"No, no. You're fine, K-11. I was only curious." Jet let his hand hover over a button. Outside, he could hear Tamari knocking on his door. "I won't keep you on the line, but I promise that help is on the way. Until it arrives, do your best to keep your passengers safe." With that, he hung up and gestured for Tamari to come in. "How much of that did you overhear?"

Tamari's cheeks turned rosy from embarrassment. "Sorry!" That didn't answer Jet's question. "Most of it, I think…? Did I hear someone say a Metro train was bombed?"

"да, little comrade. You did." Jet was already taking off his running shoes so he could replace them with his insulated steel-toed boots. His other emergency gear was always kept in here, all so he'd be ready at a moment's notice.

"Was it coming from Plumbum City?" When Jet muttered a quick _mmhmm_ under his breath; Tamari's eyes grew big with worry. "Oh no! Some of my friends might be on that train!"

Tamari had attended part of Cyrus's celebration party, but Grigol insisted she needed to be in bed by 10:00. Even though she went back to her bunk, she could hear the older trainers laughing and having a good time downstairs. Most of them didn't come back to the public barracks until after midnight.

By the time Grigol woke her up to take the first train to Kalium City, most everyone was still sound asleep. They were either hungover from too much alcohol; sleepy from smoking that stinky-smelling plant one of the Unovan trainers offered to share; or they were just tired from partying all night.

The only other person who was up by then was old lady Renata, and she had a car. She didn't need to take the Metro. Tamari tried to go to Cynthia and Cyrus's private room and knock on their door. She wanted to thank them for softening up Simon for her, but Grigol blocked her. He'd told her to let them sleep. They'd probably need it.

By now, Tamari was convinced they were on the train. They were tough trainers; but what about everybody else? That Kantonian girl, Lulu, only had an Abra. That stupid thing couldn't do anything other than Teleport! And her friends were just a gaggle of big dumb boys. They probably had no idea how to handle a disaster like this!

The more Tamari thought about it, the more anxious she became. "I'm pretty sure at least one of them's on it. We had a party. People stayed up late. They probably wanted to sleep in and take a later morning train…" She could hear her brother in the hallway, asking her to please stop bothering the Gym Leader; but she was determined. "I know you probably think I won't be much help, Jet; but those people are my friends. I can't just sit here and do nothing!"

' _There's just no winning this, is there?_ ' Jet finished tying the laces on his boots and let loose a long, exasperated groan. "Alright. You can help. There's a very important task I think you can handle."

"What! R-really?! GRIGOL!" Tamari opened the door and grinned impishly at her brother. "Guess what!"

…

By the time Jet left the Kalium Gym, Tamari was ready to strangle him.

Her "very important task" involved manning the radio and forwarding the disaster coordinates across the emergency channel. Every municipal building in Kalium City heard that transmission. Even cargo truckers on the highways picked up the distress signal. Every two minutes, she was supposed to send it again. She'd done so for the past ninety minutes without fail.

This last time, Jet heard her mutter something under her breath that made him chuckle: _you're a lousy comrade, Jet!_

As he pulled his snowmobile closer to the train, he noted there were at least three dozen other volunteers at the rally point. Some of them were already helping the frightened passengers into their vehicles. "Hey!" he called out, waving his right arm playfully. "Don't tell me you started the party without me."

"Comrade Melkadze!" A large bear-like man in a military surplus coat rushed closer. "What was the holdup? You're usually our first responder!"

"A ten-year-old wanted to help." Some of the emergency responders groaned when they heard that. They'd all been there before. They understood. "Is anyone still on the train?"

"We don't know yet. As soon as we got here, we burned some emergency flares. Most of the passengers got off as soon as they saw them." Good. That was what they were supposed to do. "Varenka was about to go in there, but then we saw you. How about it, comrade? Want to take your chances and check for any dead or injured?"

"Well, _somebody_ should! It might as well be the Gym Leader, _да_?" Jet pulled out a Poké Ball and called out one of his Pokémon. "Croagunk, I need your help. Do you see that train?" The big blue frog grinned and nodded its head excitedly. "I need you to—"

"CROOOOOOOOOAK!" It took very little to excite his Croagunk. Its yellow cheeks puffed up and down in glee, all too eager to get to work. It didn't even wait to hear what Jet had to say before it sucker-punched and broke a glass window.

"I…I was gonna tell you to open the door. I guess that works, too..."

In the background, Jet could hear some of his emergency dispatch buddies laughing nervously. They all knew that the Kinzo National Metro was one of Jet's media endorsement contracts. Once they found out one of his Pokémon trashed a train, they wouldn't be too happy with him.

"Oi. Croagunk." Croagunk had temporarily been distracted by the shattered glass on the snow. He'd picked up a piece and was in the middle of inspecting it when he heard his trainer call his name again. He croaked and gave a quick salute, just to prove he was paying attention. "Formation 3."

Without hesitation, Croagunk crouched and placed all four of his legs onto the snowy ground. He squatted, making himself as tight and sturdy as he could, and waited for his trainer to come at him. Jet took a few steps back, just to give himself a head start, and ran toward his Pokémon at full speed. Once his foot came into contact with Croagunk's back, Jet somersaulted into the air and landed straight through the broken window.

Once he was inside, he could hear some of the other volunteers applaud and cheer. "Friends, friends—you are too generous! After five years of gymnastics and acrobatics training, I'm certain you could do the same!" That was a lie. This took talent and dedication: two things most of them would never have. ' _Okay…time to look around…_ '

"Helloooo!" Jet called out, making his way down a dark, lonely-looking corridor. "Is anyone still on the train? We need everyone to evacuate! If you haven't done so already—"

"IN HERE!" He heard a girl's voice coming from the Battle Car. Jet took a deep breath, readying himself. Looking down, he could see blood in the aisle and that troubled him. "SOMEBODY, PLEASE HELP!"

' _A damsel in distress?_ ' One of the things Jet loved most about being a Gym Leader were the opportunities where he could rush in and be somebody's hero. If this young lady was too hurt or frightened to leave the Battle Car on her own, he'd be the answer to her prayers.

"Please remain calm, Miss!" Jet yelled back. "Help is on the way! Hariyama!" The hefty Pokémon turned around to look at him. "We possibly have an injured party in the Battle Car. Be prepared to step in and assist." Hariyama saluted him with his large hands and stomped closer. He was such a big, heavy thing. With each step the Pokémon took, he made the whole car shake.

Battle Cars always left Jet feeling a little ill, mostly because he knew from personal experience just how brutal Kinzo's rural trainers could be. A friend in Kanto went through all the trouble to breed him a perfect Hitmonchan. He'd waited patiently for it to come out of quarantine….and some jerk on the Metro killed it in less than ten minutes.

' _I won't judge her,_ ' Jet decided, though the blood on the floor made it a little hard for him to believe those words. ' _I'll…_ _ **try**_ _…not to judge her…_ '

Taking a deep breath, Jet opened the door to the Battle Car and wasn't sure how to take it all in. A badly battered Zubat lay curled up in the far left corner, a Golbat growled angrily from the far right and hissed when Jet tried to get near it, and a pair of teenagers sat in the dead center of the room. A blonde girl in a black coat was cradling an unconscious blue-haired boy in her arms, sobbing into his chest.

Judging from the severity of the boy's injuries, it quickly became apparent to Jet that the wounds were inflicted by a Pokémon. In some of the northern settlements like Ferrum Town, "Man vs. Nature" fights were very popular— _illegal_ , but popular. The only thing that didn't add up was that Ferrum Town liked to place humans against wild Pokémon. There was no way somebody could get one of those into a Metro station, let alone a train.

This was different: like somebody had gone out of their way to catch a Pokémon and turn it loose on this poor bastard. They'd sent a couple of guys to prison for that before. It wasn't unheard of, but people didn't do that kind of thing in the south!

"Wake up," the girl sobbed, shaking her friend. " _Please_ …"

"Young lady?" Jet watched as the girl turned around to look at him. Nobody looked pretty when they cried. Their faces turned red like tomatoes, snot came out of their noses, and their cheeks turned puffy from all the salty tears. Still, even with all that going on, he could tell this girl was a beauty. "I'm Jet Melkadze: the local Gym Leader. I've come here to take you and your friend to safety."

He held out his hand, expecting the girl to take it. "Hariyama can carry your friend," he insisted. "Sometimes I let him volunteer at the convalescence center. When he isn't battling, he's very gentle."

"My friend needs a doctor," the girl insisted, hugging her friend even closer to her body. His blood had stained her clothes and completely soaked through her first aid tourniquets. "He over-trained his Golbat and now it won't listen to him." Her eyes narrowed sharply at the Pokémon in the corner. It let loose another angry hiss. "I came in here and he…"

She didn't want to let go. Jet didn't have the heart to tell her that the boy already looked half dead.

Very slowly, Jet reached for a Poké Ball on the ground. "Is this his Golbat's Poké Ball?" She nodded her head. He picked up the ball and pushed the button. It took longer than he was typically used to seeing, but Golbat was recalled. "Was the other Pokémon over there his, too, or—"

"No!" She was firm about that and was already scrambling over to scoop it up. "That Zubat belonged to Team Sigma. A Gamma dragged my friend in here and forced him to battle. He had no choice."

Hariyama squeezed his way into the Battle Car and held out his hands expectantly for the unconscious boy. The girl wiped her face with a coat sleeve and sucked in a sob.

"Come with me." Jet kept his voice calm and soft. There was no point in startling the poor dear any further. "We'll take my snowmobile back to Kalium City and get your friend checked in at the hospital. My mother's a nurse. I'll make sure he's treated well."

Assuming he survived the ride. Jet wasn't entirely sure he would.

"So no more tears, pretty girl. Okay?"


	24. Missed Exit

Cyrus's head was firmly placed in Cynthia's lap. With each turn and bump from the snowmobile, Cynthia could see him slipping in and out of consciousness. Chances were he probably wouldn't remember any of this; but she liked to imagine that if he did, he'd at least know somebody was there for him.

What happened in the Battle Car was the stuff of nightmares. Not only was Cyrus forced to watch an angry trainer kill a Pokémon in cold blood, but he was attacked by his own Golbat. If Cyrus released Golbat back into the wild or kept it in its Poké Ball indefinitely; Cynthia wouldn't blame him either way. If her friend did decide to keep it, winning Golbat's trust back would be an uphill battle.

' _Maybe I can work with his Pokémon while he's in the hospital. I won't level Golbat any higher than he currently is—that's part of what caused this mess in the first place_ — _but I can at least try to socialize him. A few treats here, a little praise there: maybe he'll come around_.'

Whatever happened, Cynthia refused to let Golbat end up like the bloodied, dead thing wrapped in Cyrus's ruined jacket. There was no way she could leave Guano Lisa in the Battle Car. The next time a Metro staff member cleaned it out; they would have hosed it down and tossed her broken, ruined body in a dumpster. That little Zubat deserved better than to be thrown away with the trash. She hadn't done anything wrong.

Once Cyrus was squared away at the hospital and all their things were settled in at the Kalium City Trainers Lodge, Cynthia planned to take all the Pokémon for a checkup at the Pokémon Center. While there, she could ask the nurse to properly cremate Guano Lisa. Her trainer wouldn't be there, but Avdantil didn't deserve to be. Not after this.

She tried her best not to look at Guano Lisa's corpse. When Cynthia first picked it up, she'd screamed. It didn't look so much like a Zubat as it did random gobs of squished meat, but she knew. She wrapped Guano Lisa in multiple layers of fabric and tucked her into the floorboard. She'd be less tempted to look down there, but she wouldn't forget to take the body with her.

Cynthia's Pokémon had been out in the Battle Car, but that was no longer the case. Eevee wouldn't stop growling at Jet's Hariyama, so she called him back. Spiritomb was worse. It wouldn't stop staring at Cyrus with its green, malevolent eyes. When the Pokémon opened its mouth and acted like it was going to bite him, Cynthia panicked and pushed the button on Spiritomb's ball.

None of that was really registering right now. All her tired, terrified brain wanted to focus on was something nice: like how pleasant Cyrus's hair felt in her fingers. It was surprisingly soft. It even smelled nice. Clean, too. Like mint and some kind of pine.

"Jet…?"

It felt like she hadn't uttered a word in centuries. She'd screamed herself hoarse earlier, just to get Jet's attention. She heard him from a nearby passenger car and wanted to make sure he didn't leave Cyrus behind. That time, she was heard. Right now, her voice felt so weak that she wasn't sure the Jet heard her. When he turned around to look at her, Cynthia was relieved. She didn't have to raise her voice after all.

"Why aren't we moving?"

"We're still moving, pretty girl," Jet insisted. "I just have to keep it slow because of the E-Bomb. Look outside."

It was hard to do so. For a while, all Cynthia could see was frost, snow, and a gray sky. Sometimes she'd catch glimpses of distant city lights. It took a while for the snow to ease up just enough to show her what was going on, but what she saw worried her.

The highway was littered with shut-down automobiles: school buses, police cars, cargo trucks, and even a cute bright red roadster. The drivers were out of their vehicles, trying to flag down any emergency snowmobile they could find. Some of them were even holding up their babies and toddlers, just to prove their whole family was stranded.

At first, she thought Jet would stop to help somebody—especially since he had a perfectly good and empty seat on the front passenger side—but he never pulled over. He wasn't the only active vehicle to dodge the stranded cars. Other emergency personnel were doing it, too. Some stopped. Some didn't. "What's going on?"

"That bomb shut off more than just the Metro's power. All the cars on the southern highway stopped dead in their tracks. That's where we are now, but there's no need to worry! I can get around this."

Each time the vehicle hit a bump, Cyrus let loose a faint grunt to show his discomfort. That was proof to Cynthia he was at least halfway conscious and not totally out cold. She kept whispering things to him in an attempt to keep him ambulatory, but he was fading. When he stopped making noises altogether, she squeezed his wrist to see if she could get a stable pulse reading. It was there; weak, but there.

"Come on, Cyrus," she kept whispering to him. "You've gotta stay with me. We're almost there…"

"Well…" Jet called out. " _Almost_ is a little generous. It all depends on how quickly I can navigate around this maze. You care an awful lot about your friend, don't you?"

' _What kind of a question is that? Of course I do!_ '

"I don't know if he views me as a friend yet. We haven't even worked together for three weeks."

After everything they'd been through in Plumbum City, it felt like it had been much longer than that. There was nothing quite like living in close proximity to somebody day in and day out to really get to know them. In those eighteen days, Cyrus had only opened up to Cynthia twice.

The more she learned about her new friend, the more Cynthia realized this internship meant much more to him than simply collecting data for Professor Myrtle. Coming to Kinzo gave Cyrus an entire year away from his personal hell in Sunyshore City. This was every bit as much an escape as it was work.

Out here, Cyrus could reinvent himself. He could find out what sort of person he was when his parents weren't there to pull his puppet strings. Cynthia could respect that. If anything, she wanted to encourage that. She wanted to fix all the hurt in his world; or at least help him figure out how to fix it himself.

' _You've had a bad life, haven't you? I want to spend this year helping you rekindle at least a little faith in humanity. You need to know we're not all bad._ '

More importantly, she wanted him to realize he had a friend. When she surprised Cyrus with the Ædranos Ruins tickets, he'd given her a very sweet smile. She hoped to see it again without forcing it. One of these days, she even hoped to get him to laugh. If he wanted this friendship to last beyond Kinzo, he could have it…assuming he survived this attack.

Cynthia knew her current outfit was a lost cause. There was no detergent on the face of the earth that could remove that much blood from the fabric, but she didn't mind. Holding onto Cyrus meant she could at least partially staunch his bleeding. That part didn't worry her.

What _did_ worry her was that she couldn't feel anything warm and new touching her skin. Everything was starting to dry and clump together in cold, uncomfortable patches. As much as she wanted to keep Cyrus calm, it was more important to make sure he lived to see another day. "Can you drive any faster!? He's turning cold!"

She couldn't see the look on Jet's face, but she certainly heard him sigh. He held out a thick muscular arm, as if to gesture at the chaotic outdoors. "I'm going as fast as I can. You see that snow? You see how heavy it's coming down? I can't go any faster, just because you want me to. I still have to be safe about this."

At least they were moving again. Jet finally slipped through the blockade, but now the snow was so thick that Cynthia could barely read the road signs. She wished Jet would floor the accelerator and rush them to the hospital, but she at least understood why he couldn't do that. Patience was a virtue, but her friend was slowly bleeding to death on her lap! His condition created a sense of urgency, and Cynthia was genuinely afraid they weren't going to make it in time.

"Are you two challenging the Kinzo League, pretty girl?"

"Yes." When she said that one word, it came out as impatient and guarded. Hopefully, Jet would get the message: that his passenger wasn't in any mood for small talk or chit-chat.

"Aw, come on. Please don't take this out on me. This isn't my fault. Are you doing anything other than the League?"

Okay. Fine. She'd bite, so long as he went faster than a Slowpoke's pace on the damn road. "Do you know Professor Myrtle?"

Jet laughed, but had to stomp his foot on the brakes momentarily. A heavily bundled-up woman in an insulated parka was trying to cross the road. The only reason Jet saw her was because the old lady's coat was an obnoxiously bright shade of neon green. Gray, white, black, or blue would have probably gotten her run over. "I do, actually! Myrtle's from Johto, but she's been our regional professor since I first became a trainer. She's a very interesting woman."

"Well, we work for her."

"Aaaaah, I see! And I'm guessing you need the first four Kinzo badges to explore the wild areas?"

"Yep." As much as she'd been willing to give the chit-chat a try, Cynthia's patience had finally worn out. She kept applying pressure to Cyrus's injuries in the hopes of stabilizing him. She knew it probably hurt, but she just wanted him to make a noise—any noise—to prove he wasn't beyond help. Jet wanted to keep talking, but it was all Cynthia could do to keep from screaming at him.

"Since you were coming from Plumbum City, I'm assuming you defeated Simon. What did you think of him? Isn't he tough?"

Cynthia knew she was in the minority, but she'd liked Simon…until he accused Cyrus of cheating. "Uh-huh," she decided to say. That felt safe enough. "I don't think he'll be nice to any other challengers for a while, though. Cyrus beat him on his first try."

Was it just her, or was Jet slowing down again? The snowmobile barely felt like it was moving!

She tried to look outside, well past that barrier of thick white and unfriendly gray. She still couldn't see the road signs very clearly. Most of them were covered in ice and frost. The most visible things beyond the snowmobile were the white and red lights of other vehicles crawling bumper to bumper in emergency-level traffic.

Since they were going so slow, Jet turned around to face the back and chuckled. "Wait, wait. You mean to tell me that's the boy who—oh my! What a small world it is! Just last night, Simon called to warn Kai and me about him! He must be quite a talented Pokémon Trainer!"

"He's _clever_ ," Cynthia clarified. "He put an empty Poké Ball on his belt and pretended he had a third Pokémon. That way, Simon wouldn't tell his Wobbuffet to use Destiny Bond in the match." She felt Cyrus's fingers curl weakly around her hand. Cynthia held in a gasp when she felt that. She squeezed tighter, hoping he'd do it in reply. He didn't.

' _Come on. Stay with me. We're trying, Cyrus. Just hold on…_ '

"Oh ho ho hoooo! That _is_ clever! I like your friend already! What about you, pretty girl? What kind of a trainer are you? How many Pokémon Leagues have you challenged?"

At least the storm was easing up. Cynthia could see a little better. When they first got into the snowmobile, Jet told her to look for Exit 2. They just passed Exit 4. "This is my third. But Jet, you—"

"Third, eh? Where else have you been?"

Cynthia's grasp on Cyrus grew tighter. Maybe she was being paranoid, but it was starting to feel like Jet was doing this on purpose. But why? Why would he do that? Didn't he say he'd take Cyrus to a doctor? "You need to turn around. We missed our exit!"

"Hm?"

"Exit 2, right?" When the next exit sign came up, she pointed at it. "That's Exit _5!_ Is there a back road we can take? Cyrus's pulse is weak and he's not breathing normally and—"

"I know this isn't what you want to hear, but the highway's still our best bet." He couldn't be serious! It was practically a parking lot! "At least this traffic's moving in one direction. If we take a city road, all we'll find is more of this bumper to bumper nonsense. We'll make another loop and try again."

No! She wasn't going to take that! That wasn't a good enough answer! "No. We'll walk," she growled. That caught Jet by surprise. "Park the snowmobile somewhere and call out your Hariyama. Together, we can—"

"We can…what, exactly? Drag your friend through the snow to get him to a hospital?" Jet shook his head. "ни за что. Doing that in this kind of weather would just be stupid."

"I don't care if it's stupid! If it gets us to the hospital any faster, then it's worth it! I'm grateful you gave us a ride and helped the other passengers; but if you don't take us to the hospital _right now_ , my friend is going to die!"

Cynthia was about to ask Jet if he wanted Cyrus's death on his conscience, but then the snowmobile sped up to almost dangerous speeds. The sudden increase in inertia bumped her head against the back of the seat, holding her in place. When Jet took the exit ramp, Cynthia was shoved into her door. She needed to use all her strength, just to make sure Cyrus didn't fall into the floor and land on Guano Lisa.

' _Heavy traffic, my foot…_ '

Once Jet took the exit, the rest of the trip flew by in less than five minutes. Kalium General Hospital was only half a kilometer away from the highway, complete with obvious blue signs indicating where it was. Right across the street was a Pokémon Center. Several snowmobiles had already made it over there, parked outside so the trainers from the Metro disaster could heal their Pokémon.

Cynthia could see a few familiar faces making their way inside. Isaac's green coat was as bright as a traffic light and easy to spot. He was rushing inside with his Baltoy still in his arms. Right beside him was number-crunching Lulu in her bright yellow flannel shirt. She was hugging her Abra so close to her that one would think it got injured on the train. It was fine. Instead of helping everyone else, Lulu just hid beneath the seats like a coward.

The snowmobile came to a halt. Cynthia lunged forward and tightly wrapped her arms around her friend. Both nearly fell out of their seat. "Alright," Jet grunted. "Here's your stop." He stepped out of the vehicle and came to the back. Cynthia wasn't quite sure what he planned to do, but he opened the door and held out his big strong arms. "Let me take it from here. I'll get him inside."

After seeing the juxtaposition between Jet's claims and how the Kalium City traffic actually behaved, Cynthia was a bit wary to trust him. But she also knew she wasn't strong enough to carry Cyrus all the way inside. It disturbed her a bit, seeing just how frail he looked by comparison: so pale, so thin, so sickly…

Jet's olive complexion only made the contrast even more drastic. He looked full of life and vitality, while the wounded youth in his arms looked close to dead. The Emergency Room's automatic doors slid out of Jet's way and people cleared a path so he could pass. Cynthia rushed behind him, refusing to let him go too far ahead without her, all her things, and Guano Lisa.

Once at the front desk, Jet flagged down a receptionist. She'd been doing something on the computer, but stopped the moment she saw the injured boy in Jet's arms. She gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. "Comrade Melkadze! What happened to that young man?!"

"You know that Metro train that got stalled? He was on it. These injuries are from a—hold on. Which Pokémon was it again, pretty girl?"

UGH! He needed to _stop_ calling her that! "Golbat," Cynthia hissed, "but it wasn't Golbat's fault! Team Sigma forced my friend to participate in a death match. Golbat got scared and started attacking everything."

For now, she'd take responsibility for Cyrus's Pokémon. They'd listen to her, even if they didn't want to.

The receptionist didn't seem to fully buy that story, but said nothing more about it. She gave Cynthia a wary look, and then glanced up at Jet. "Don't look at me. _I_ didn't see what happened. Just give her a ticket, would you?"

"Ticket?" Cynthia raised an eyebrow at that. "I already told you, Golbat didn't—"

Jet patted the top of her head. Maybe he meant it to be affectionate or reassuring, but it felt more condescending than anything else. "Relax. It's not that kind of ticket. Kinzonian hospitals don't take scheduled appointments. Everything is first come first serve. When you show up, the front desk gives you a ticket with a number on it. When they call your number—see? Yours is 22—all you have to do is raise your hand so the staff can see you. Until then, sit with your friend and let the front desk know if his condition worsens."

Normally, Cynthia would accept that answer and sit patiently. Now all she could do was feel the pulse in her neck as she looked at the other patients in the emergency room.

A fat middle-aged man held a croupy toddler in his arms. Each cough sounded wet, gross, and contagious. A few seats over, a woman berated her factory worker husband for not paying attention. The man kept nodding his head, but his eyes were focused on his hand. Half a finger was missing. Across from them were a whole bunch of people Cynthia recognized from the train. They looked a bit roughed up, but none of them were at death's door.

She was done waiting. Cyrus couldn't wait any longer.

"Hey!" She tapped on the glass to get the receptionist's attention again. Angrily, she held out Cyrus's wrist. It flopped limply onto the counter. "Feel his pulse, and _then_ tell me if he's fine enough to wait."

The receptionist looked startled by the girl's frustrated words; but refused to touch the injured boy. She just pushed the ticket closer to Cynthia and tried to put some distance between them. "I'm sorry. I'm not a nurse. I just…I just do clerical stuff…"

"Do you need anything else, pretty girl?" Jet asked impatiently, tapping his foot. "If not, I really should—"

"Just go!" Cynthia snapped. "You've done enough already!"

She was so afraid Cyrus would go into shock before his number was called, but he didn't. Luckily, they didn't even have to wait too long. Patients were called to the back rather quickly, and Patient 18 had just been called by the time Cyrus was checked in. The moment Cynthia heard a nurse ask for Patient 22, she furiously waved her hand to get his attention.

The nurse quickly came by and gently hoisted Cyrus onto a stretcher. As he started to securely strap the boy to the bed, the nurse made eye contact with Cynthia. They were a tired, hazy shade of gray: like the snowy sky outside. "We'll take good care of your friend, but this could take a while. Do you plan to stay in the waiting room?"

"I can't go with him?" She knew it was a long shot, but it was worth asking. In Sinnoh, a patient's friend or traveling companion could keep them company. In Unova, only a spouse or an immediate family member could do that. She didn't know the protocol for Kinzo.

"I'm sorry. Unless your friend is 16 years old, I can't let you back there without his family's consent. Where will you be staying in Kalium City? I'm guessing the Trainers Lodge?"

"…yes. Yes, we'll be staying there…" Her whole head felt like it was spinning. She had to sit down.

"This isn't as simple as a few bandages and stitches. Your friend was bitten by a Poison Pokémon. It takes about three days to fully extract the venom and another two days to make sure he doesn't have a bad reaction to the antidote. If the injuries are severe enough, he may also need stitches or some minor surgery."

"Should I book a private room?" Cynthia planned to do it anyway, if any were still available. Chances were the Kalium Lodge would be swarming with displaced trainers from the Team Sigma attack. If there were any private rooms left, Cynthia couldn't afford to be choosy. She just thought it would be in Cyrus's best interest to recuperate someplace quiet.

"I'm friends with the Lodge Owner. I'll let him know you're coming and explain the situation. Zed's a good man. I think you'll like him." Cynthia also thought she'd like Jet, and he'd proven to be a jackass. "I know this must be scary, but this looks a lot worse than it actually is. Your friend will be here for a few days, but he'll bounce back. We treat Golbat bites all the time."

Cynthia's eyes welled up with tears of relief. Cyrus would be alright! He wasn't going to lose him! "…okay. Thank you…"

"Do you want me to call the Lodge when he wakes up?"

"Yes! Yes, please!"

"Alright. What's your name? Who should I ask for when I call?"

Cynthia was about to tell him her name, but the nurse handed her a pen and paper. Okay. That was better, anyway. He'd have it on file and be able to show Cyrus that she was at the Lodge. She scribbled her full name down on a piece of paper and slid it to the nurse. "Call me the moment he opens his eyes, okay?"


	25. Kalium City Trainers Lodge

Cynthia didn't expect Jet to wait for her, nor did she expect anyone to help her with all her things. The Kalium City Trainers Lodge was only one block away from the hospital. As heavy and clunky as the bags were, she was pretty sure she could get everything in one trip. All she had to do was reduce the number of things she had to carry. Unfortunately, that did mean she had to tuck Guano Lisa's bloodied bundle into the top of her backpack and hope for the best.

She'd done enough traveling (international and otherwise) to know how to pack a light and efficient bag. It was painfully obvious that Cyrus was still learning how to do that. His luggage was so heavy that she suspected he'd bought half a PokéMart's worth of supplies—not to mention every other "emergency" item they probably wouldn't need until they defeated this gym, the one after that, and the one after _that_.

Cynthia's back hurt from all the strain and her arms felt like they were on the verge of falling off. She stopped for a moment to catch her breath and groaned. ' _That does it. Once you're out of the hospital, I'm going to show you how to pack a proper bag. This is—_ '

"Cynthia? Is that you?" When Cynthia looked up, she spotted a chubby pink-haired girl in a cream and blue-striped sweatshirt. The kid was practically bouncing as she scampered over. "Hey! Remember me?"

When the girl tried to hug her, Cynthia let her. She _did_ know her…sort of. She at least recognized her from the Plumbum City Lodge. "I'm really sorry, sweetie. I'm better with faces than names. But I do remember you! You're traveling with your big brother and you have a Dunsparce, right?"

"Mmhmm! Dunderhead's right over there!" Oh, good. This was the same kid she remembered! Now she felt bad for remembering the Pokémon's name but not its trainer's name. "It's okay if you forgot me. I battled Cyrus more than you." The girl held out one of her hands so Cynthia could shake it. "Let's start over, shall we? I'm Tamari Beridze, from Radon City."

Cynthia didn't know where Radon City was on the Kinzo map. It didn't have a Pokémon gym, so she hadn't focused on it. Later, when she had a moment to consult her travel guide, she'd realize Tamari's hometown was all the way in north Kinzo. That little girl was a long, long way from home.

"My brother's unpacking my stuff right now. He said I should go downstairs and see if anyone needed help. Sooooo, how about I help you? Your bags look super heavy."

"Oh, they are. Cyrus's bags are the heaviest. When I tried to pick the blue one up, I'm pretty sure I heard something pop." She'd certainly felt it pop. By morning, Cynthia's whole right arm would be sore.

Tamari's face scrunched up into a quizzical expression. "Wait. Why do you have Cyrus's stuff? Is he—wait a minute! Were you on that train that got attacked?! Is he okay?!"

Cynthia took a deep breath. She was still pretty shaken up by everything that happened, but she didn't want to accidentally lose her temper with Tamari. All she wanted to do was help. "Yeah. We were on that train. Cyrus is in the hospital right now. He'll…"

She didn't mean for her voice to crack, but she was so worn out and tired. Until just a few minutes ago, she'd thought Cyrus would bleed to death before a medical professional saw him. Nothing had ever scared her that much. Although the nurse reassured her that Cyrus would be fine; Cynthia's body was still coming down from the terror. It would take a while for all the adrenaline to pass.

She wiped her face, hoping she wasn't crying. Her cheeks felt hot, though, so she suspected she was. "He'll be in there for a few days, but the doctor said he'd make a full recovery. It's still scary, you know?"

' _And I'm pretty sure that when he wakes up, he'll be scared too._ '

Back in the Battle Car, Cynthia told Cyrus he needed to see a doctor. She wasn't blind to the fear on his face. Cyrus tried every possible excuse in an attempt to convince Cynthia not to take him to a hospital. Maybe it was a blessing he passed out before they made it to the ER.

"I hope his parents let me visit him. Neither one of us have family out here. Right now, I'm all Cyrus has."

"Nuh-uh," Tamari countered. "He has me, my brother, and our Pokémon, too! Come on out, Dunderhead! A nice lady needs your help!"

Tamari pulled out Dunderhead's Poké Ball and placed a couple of the lighter bags on the Dunsparce's back. They were relatively large creatures—about the size of a petite woman—but didn't weigh too much. Dunderhead happily crawled with Cynthia's backpack on its back, wriggling closer and closer to the Lodge.

This meant that the two girls could work on carrying Cyrus's heavy bag together. Sharing the load made it easier. "It sucks that Cyrus got hurt. I don't think I could've gotten my Lead Badge without him! If you or he need anything, tell me or Grigol."

"Thanks, Tamari. You're a very sweet girl."

Tamari's cheeks turned as pink as her hair. She giggled. "No, I'm not! Grigol calls me a brat at least twice a day!"

Now it was Cynthia's turn to laugh, at least a little. "I think that's just part of being a big brother. So, um…is this the Kalium Lodge?"

"Yep! We're here!"

From the outside, the Kalium City Trainers Lodge didn't look like anything special. It was just another standard-issue concrete building with shutterless windows, metal storm doors, and a sign out front denoting it was, in fact, a Trainers Lodge. When Cynthia and Tamari stepped inside, however, the atmosphere was completely different from the last Lodge.

The old man who ran the Plumbum City Lodge had decorated the interior to resemble a den in a grandfatherly home. There were soft, cozy chairs in front of a warm fireplace, snacks constantly available, and plenty of pictures of the Lodge Owner's family and Pokémon. Bookcases were stuffed with dusty old tomes about the history of Plumbum City: all free for tenants to check out and read.

Cynthia was pretty sure the hefty, middle-aged fellow sitting at the front desk was the Kalium Lodge Owner. He was a big man with thick glasses, a shaved head, and a bushy rose-colored beard that stretched across his entire jaw and neck. Even from a distance, he had a strong chemical smell to him: like acetone or turpentine. He was in the middle of assisting a tired-looking man with a cane, but he spotted the girls and waved. Maybe that was his way of saying he'd be able to help her shortly.

As Cynthia made her way a bit further into the Lodge, she heard a pitiful wheezing noise at her feet. When she looked down, she realized those exhausted sounds were coming from Tamari's Dunsparce. Poor Dunderhead stared up at her with big, pleading eyes. Its face was covered with sweat and half-melted snow. He bumped his head against Cynthia's leg and whined, hoping she'd take those heavy things off his back.

"I think I can take it from here, Tamari. You and Dunderhead were a huge help."

Tamari's moon-like face broke into a huge, infectious grin. "Hey, what are friends for? If you wanna come by and say hi later, we're staying in the public barracks. Catch ya later! Bye!" With that, Tamari scampered off deeper into the Lodge. Dunderhead couldn't keep up, but desperately tried to do so. When he couldn't get up the stairs, he made a distressed noise until Tamari called him back.

' _The Lodge Owner looks pretty occupied. Maybe I should have a look around while he's busy._ ' Cynthia pushed the bags into a corner, called her Pokémon out, and decided to do a bit of exploration around the den. ' _There's no harm in looking, right?_ '

The common area had a tall vaulted ceiling with a lone fan spinning in an attempt to better circulate the air. The centerpiece was a large stone fireplace with three shelves' worth of board games and books available for anyone to use. All around the fireplace was a horseshoe formation of mismatched chairs and sofas. A few trainers were sitting there with their Pokémon, sipping on hot chocolate and coffee.

Almost all of the walls were covered in wood paneling: the fake flat stuff rather than the real deal. Punctuating the monotony were a multitude of large poster-sized pieces of pop art, each trapped behind glass and a thin brass picture frame. Some of them had plaques beneath them, indicating that they had once been on display at the Kalium City Museum of 20th Century Art.

One picture in particular caught Cynthia's attention, since she recognized two of the people in it. Simon looked as smarmy as ever, complete with his ruffled tuxedo shirt and monocle. And Jet— _ugh_!—looked strong, handsome, and way too sure of himself. She didn't recognize the other six, but suspected they were probably the other Kinzo Gym Leaders. "This kind of looks like something out of a comic book…"

"Oh, that's no coincidence!" The Lodge Owner was finally stepping away from his desk to come assist her. He had a big proud grin on his face. "I'm friends with a lot of local artists, including the lady who drew that. I do their inking as a side job. But where are my manners today? I made you wait and I didn't even introduce myself! That's completely unacceptable!"

"No, no. It's fine. You were helping somebody else." At least the Lodge Owner seemed friendly…unlike a certain _other_ representative of Kalium City Cynthia dealt with today. The proper Kinzonian greeting was a handshake, so Cynthia held out her hand for the man to shake.

The Lodge Owner's handshake was much stronger than his doughy physique would first imply. It was playful—vigorous, even. "I'm Zed Levin: the local Lodge Owner. Welcome to Kalium City! I hope you'll find your stay here to be a pleasant one."

Cynthia took the man's hand and politely shook it. "Nice to meet you, Zed. I'm Cynthia."

"Are you Cynthia _Shirona_ , by chance? My friend at the hospital told me what happened. If that's you, I already have a private room prepared for you and your friend."

"Well… _friends_ …" Cynthia corrected him. "Cyrus and I have a third party member. I don't know if she's already checked in, but are there any rooms big enough for three people?" Worst case scenario, she and Campanella could share a bed. "But I'm sure whatever you saved for us is great! Sorry. It's been such a crazy morning. My mind's all over the place…"

Zed smiled at her reassuringly. "I understand, Miss Cynthia. Now, I'll have to warn you upfront: my Lodge has fewer private rooms than the Plumbum Lodge does. Jet doesn't get as many challengers as Simon does, so we couldn't justify having a big facility. Since your friend isn't doing so well, I saved a room that should be perfect for the both of you. If you have a third person, it should still be big enough. I'll just have to find an inflatable mattress. Now, this room _does_ cost a little extra, but I don't think you'll mind after you see it."

"I can't thank you enough for doing this. Cyrus won't be leaving the hospital for a few days, but I want everything to be ready for him when he's released."

Without so much as skipping a beat, Zed reached for Cynthia's luggage. He hoisted all the bags in his arms, acting as though they weighed nothing at all. "Will the stairs be any trouble for him?" Cynthia shook her head. "Okay, good. This room has a private bathroom, too. I figured he'd probably want to shower in private, especially if his injuries are pretty bad."

This was a good surprise! Cyrus was probably the biggest introvert Cynthia had ever traveled with. The fewer people Cyrus had to interact with as he recuperated; the better.

"Is it just a shower, or is there a bathtub, too?" Cynthia didn't mind taking showers, but it felt like ages since she'd been able to take a nice, long, hot bath. The very thought of it excited her. It was such a small thing, but she could really use a pick-me-up after she called Cyrus's parents and told them their son was hurt.

Zed didn't answer, but only because he was unlocking the room. When the door opened, Cynthia was surprised by the quality of it. It looked more like a bed and breakfast than a hostel! The mattresses were thicker, the room had a large bay window that overlooked the city street, the tiny bathroom had a bathtub, and everything was nicely decorated with more pop art. "And is that a thermostat!? Can we—"

Zed chuckled and folded his arms. "Within reason. The ground floor has a canteen, two Battle Rooms, a locker room, a coin-operated laundromat, and a few videophone booths. The second floor contains the general bunks where the free tenants stay. Girls have one bunk and boys have another. This floor is for tenants with private rooms. I'm usually downstairs during working hours, but I also have a small apartment in the attic. If you need anything, don't hesitate to ask."

"I most certainly will! I seriously can't thank you enough."

"One last thing?" Zed slipped a piece of paper to Cynthia. "As your Lodge Owner, I have to provide my tenants with at least two meals a day. I'm a bad cook, so sometimes I'll ask if a tenant wants to cook for everyone. If not—and that's usually the case—we'll order takeout. It's Alolan food tonight. Just mark off what looks best to you and I'll place an order later today. You can eat in your room, but I hope you'll join the rest of us. Being all alone when you're worried about a friend—"

"I've actually never had Alolan food before. This should be fun." Plus, being around other people would be a good distraction. "I recognized a lot of people on my way over here. It'll be good to catch up." Maybe she'd feel a little less lonely.

As soon as the door shut and Cynthia had both keys tucked away in her pocket, she made quick work of unpacking. Her things were easy enough to manage. All her belongings only filled up half of the left dresser. As for the dirty clothes she needed to wash, she'd tied those off in a bag and could hit the laundromat later.

She'd wash a load for Cyrus, too. Once he received the all clear to come to the Lodge, he'd return to a private room with everything clean, folded, and in its proper place. They made such good time in Plumbum City. They could afford to take it easy in Kalium City…provided Team Sigma didn't show up again.

The only thing from Cynthia's bag that didn't go inside the dresser was the torn-up jacket holding Guano Lisa's remains. The corpse sat on top of the dresser, ready to be picked up and taken for her final checkup. A trip to the Pokémon Center was next on the agenda, but only after Cynthia looked through Cyrus's address book and called his parents. Sure, they were terrible people; but they needed to know what happened.

Cynthia's Pokémon were already out and exploring the room. Since she also had Cyrus's Poké Balls, she figured his Eevee could probably use a bit of fresh air. Not Golbat, though. She wasn't going to let Golbat out until she talked to a professor she trusted more than Myrtle. Professor Rowan would know what to do about an over-leveled Pokémon. "Okay, Eevee. Come on out."

When Cyrus's Eevee came out, he cooed at Cynthia and rubbed against her leg. She crouched down to pet behind his ears. The little fox seemed glad to be out of his ball, but he kept looking around the room for his trainer. When he couldn't find Cyrus, his ears drooped and he gave Cynthia a worried look. "Vee?"

"I'm sorry, Eevee. Cyrus isn't here right now. You stuck with me for a few days. I hope that's okay."

"Eeeee vee." He sounded so dejected!

The Eevee skulked away so he could sit on the windowsill. He stared at the city, wondering which building had Cyrus in it, and twitched his tail in frustration. Cynthia wondered if Cyrus knew how much that Eevee loved him. She planned to leave it out tonight so it could sleep in the bed with her and her Eevee. He'd probably appreciate the attention.

At least he wasn't alone at the windowsill for too long. Spiritomb saw what the Eevee was doing and decided to keep him company. The two Pokémon started to babble in their respective languages. While Eevee and Spiritomb could understand each other just fine, Cynthia couldn't. All she could tell was Spiritomb's words were upsetting the little brown fox. The Eevee's tail began to droop and his noises turned into pitiful whimpers.

"Hey!" Cynthia called out. "Stop picking on him! If you can't behave, you're going back in your ball!"

Spiritomb turned around to leer at her, but something more interesting caught its attention: the loud wailing of a passing ambulance. The ghost's entire cloud glowed in excitement. It cackled and proceeded to make a slew of horrible faces from the window. The Eevee slinked off to sulk, but Spiritomb didn't even notice.

Cynthia didn't want to know what was going through her Pokémon's mind. She just knew that watching it laugh at emergency vehicles gave her the creeps. Finally, she ended up returning Spiritomb to its ball.

At least her Eevee was being (sort of) good. Making a bed was hard enough at home because her Gible loved to jump on it. Her Eevee was even more of a problem. Each time she thought she'd neatly tucked the sheets together; she'd find a big lump beneath the covers. "Eevee! No, sir!"

"Veeeeeee." He was a happy creature: snuggling under the blankets for warmth.

"Oh, I give up! I'll just make Cyrus's bed instead!"

Just saying Cyrus's name made his Eevee's ears perk up. Both Eevees scampered over to see what Cynthia was doing. A couple of times, Cynthia's Eevee tried to crawl under the covers like he'd done with her bed. Cyrus's Eevee, on the other hand, decided to jump on top and trap his littermate beneath the blankets. Cynthia's Eevee whined in protest, but he couldn't get out.

By this point, Cynthia was too tired to stop the Eevee drama. They could figure that out on their own.

Since Golbat wasn't coming out today, Cynthia stuffed his ball all the way to the very bottom of Cyrus's bag. Her hand bumped up against a small leather-bound notebook. When she pulled it out, two words were printed in gold leaf on the front: _Address Book_. Perfect. This was what she needed to get his home number.

' _I always forget what the time zone difference is between Kinzo and Sinnoh. If his parents are at work or asleep, I'll just leave a message on their answering machine._ ' Maybe it was a bad thing to think, but she hoped that would be the case.

From what little Cynthia knew about Mrs. Akagi, she already hated her. None of the things Cyrus told her about that woman were anything good. She sounded like a control freak. As bad as that was, she was more worried about Mr. Akagi. Cyrus had never said a word about him, which probably meant he was worse.

Gingerly, Cynthia opened the address book. A folded piece of paper fell out. It was stapled shut, but she suspected it was something important. She'd put it back later. For now, she'd place it in her pocket so it wouldn't get lost. At least she found the number she needed.

' _I'm sorry I'm doing this behind your back, but I have to. If I'd been hurt, I'm sure you'd do the same…_ '


	26. Aversion

Trot, trot, trot, trot.

Alexander Akagi could hear the repetitive motions of his wife's running shoes making impact with her treadmill in perfect time to the piano's notes. As little as Nichole ate, she still somehow managed to have enough energy and stamina to work out—provided it was indoors, air-conditioned, and nowhere near the sun.

She had the radio in the home gym set to a classical music station, which Alexander thought was a weird choice for exercise. He believed power ballads, fast-paced rock songs, or even disco music would work better, but no. Nichole jogged to Chopin and Liszt because she was an odd bird; _his_ bird, but still odd.

"Could you turn that down?" Alexander called out. "I'm trying to finish my program!" The music didn't fade. It completely silenced. "Hn…" She was probably annoyed with him for asking her to do that. "I didn't mean turn it _off_ , Nichole. I just—"

She hadn't turned it off. She'd switched from a sweet little etude to a full-fledged fugue.

"HEY! CRANK IT DOWN!" But over the loud and dramatic organ music, he suspected she couldn't hear him. She also probably wouldn't hear it if the neighbors who shared a wall with them begged her to stop. They'd reported Nichole's music as a noise nuisance to the HOA at least twice this year. If she did it enough times, they'd lose access to the shared pool and tennis court.

"Dammit…you know, for a grown woman, you can be such a brat!" Screw it. This wasn't live TV. He could push the pause button on the VCR and give his wife a piece of his mind.

As soon as he got off the couch to make his way toward Nichole's stuffy music, the phone rang. Alexander's first thought was that maybe Human Resources found someone to interview for the Quality Coordinator position, which the flagship office greatly needed. That had been on the forefront of his mind all week.

The last young lady who held that job went behind the company's back and interviewed for a better-paying job with a rival company. Alexander found out and fired the girl for violating the non-competition agreement. If the little bitch actually accepted the new job, he'd make sure his company went after her with a lawsuit.

Until then, Alexander only had five months to prep for the next recertification audit and needed a coordinator to organize day-to-day QC activities at the plant. He couldn't be there every day. Coordinators were his eyes and ears: his personal spies! So—

' _I don't recognize that area code._ ' All of Sinnoh had the same area code. He'd interviewed enough people from Kanto, Johto, and Hoenn to recognize those codes as well. "This is a Do Not Call number," he warned the caller. "What do you want?"

"I just wanted to make sure I dialed the right number," a girl's voice replied. "Are you Cyrus's father?"

…

"…yes. I'm his father. Who are you?"

Cynthia could feel her heart beat faster, all from nerves. Cyrus had shared very little about his parents. She knew next to nothing about Alexander, but she suspected he gave Cyrus the black eye he'd sported on the flight to Kinzo. She'd honestly kind of hoped Nichole would pick up the phone instead. At least Cynthia knew what to expect with her.

"My name is Cynthia Shirona. I work with your son." She waited a few seconds so that could sink in. "I don't know how much you know about the research we're doing—"

"A statistical analysis on the migratory patterns of uncommon, rare, and legendary Pokémon within the Kinzo region," the man interrupted. "All endorsed by Professor Myrtle Tuscarora."

Alexander's tone was very firm: almost mechanical. Cynthia recognized it all too well. Whenever Cyrus was upset and tried to hide it, he talked the same way.

"Cyrus's school told me everything after I introduced them to my lawyer. He even had a little chat with the teacher who pressured him into applying for this internship." Cynthia could hear the malice in every word. She felt like she was trying to navigate her way around an active minefield. One wrong word or move, and Cyrus's father would go off. "Please relay to my son that his rash, selfish antics cost that man his job. He'll never teach again. So…why did you call? What did Cyrus do this time?"

 _'They release his Pokémon, fire his favorite teacher, freeze his bank account…_ ' Cynthia wanted to chew out the man on the other side of the phone, but held it in. She wished she could transport herself all the way to Sunyshore City and turn her Gible loose on Alexander. Gible didn't mess around!

"He's…" That lump came back in Cynthia's throat, making it hard to talk. "Cyrus was attacked."

She'd leave out the part about Cyrus's Golbat being responsible for the injuries, if only because she worried Alexander would call Professor Myrtle and ask her to release Cyrus's quarantined Pokémon. "We were taking the Metro to Kalium City, and—I don't know if you get any Kinzonian news stations in Sunyshore City, sir, but—some local thugs attacked the train. Cyrus is in the hospital."

She braced herself because she expected to hear all kinds of vicious, hate-filled words roar through the receiver. It never came. All she could hear was the sound of Alexander taking slow, deep breaths on the other end. "Which hospital?"

"Kalium General. They won't let me visit because I'm not family, but—"

"No, no. It's fine. I'll…I'll sign off to let you see him. Cyrus is still on our insurance."

That surprised her. They'd cut off his bank accounts, but didn't cancel his medical care? "He is?"

"What's with that tone? Does that _surprise_ you?" Those words were quickly turning hostile. Cynthia had to pull the receiver away from her ear because Alexander was too loud.

"Cyrus went behind our backs, forged my signature, and even manipulated one of his teachers; all so he could run away. He didn't even stop to think about the consequences or how his actions would hurt other people. He is an impulsive, self-centered, and conceited boy; but he's the only child we'll ever have. If you knew how hard we tried, how many close calls we had with him when he was little…we _do_ care about him. He's our future."

"I see…"

"I'm sorry I lost my temper with you, young lady. It isn't your fault that Cyrus is out there. If anything, I appreciate you calling to tell me he's been hurt. I'll let his mother know." There was a long moment of silence, but Cynthia could tell Alexander planned to say something else. The way his breath hitched indicated he was about to talk, but then he froze again. "Tell my son not to worry about the bill. We'll take care of it and I'll put you on his list of approved visitors."

"Thank you, Mr. Akagi. I'm really worried about him."

"Let me clarify something, Miss Shirona. I'm doing this more for his sake than yours. Cyrus hates hospitals, but that's to be expected. He spent most of his first three years in one. We have to slip him a valium just to take him to the pediatrician. I don't want to think about how he'll react when he wakes up to a room full of Kinzonian doctors."

…

 **It never went fully dark in Sunyshore City. There was so much light pollution that the sky looked nothing like the dark and starry nights on TV. Instead, the sky turned a muddied brown color: like an overcooked piece of beef. The only things that twinkled in the far distance were the airplanes from the nearby airport, a couple of planets, and the moon: a reminder that an entire universe was out there, begging to be discovered.**

 **Once the last bit of daylight left the sky, Nichole typically insisted it was time for bed. If her son was too tired to walk, she'd carry him upstairs. And if Cyrus asked nicely, she'd curl up with him, pull out a book, and try to get him to read with her until he fell asleep. He'd even memorized one of his favorites in an attempt to impress her.**

 **She didn't do any of that tonight. Instead, she held Cyrus in her bony arms as Alexander ignored every stop sign and traffic light between the house and the hospital. Her cold fingers kept reaching to touch the little boy's forehead, brushing against his burning skin and soft blue hair.**

 **"You'll be fine," she kept murmuring, but it sounded more like she was trying to reassure herself than reassure him. "You're our strong, healthy boy…"**

 **Cyrus may have been their boy, but he certainly wasn't healthy. He couldn't keep anything down since last night. By morning, he was burning up and sweated through not only his pajamas, but also the sheets. Alexander accused him of wetting the bed at first, but it was all sweat. Nichole took a day off to stay with him, but she'd gone from calm and tranquil at breakfast to completely panicked by dinner.**

 **The OTC medications didn't work. The cold compress didn't work. Cyrus almost fainted in the bath, which terrified his mother. She'd given him so much gelatin and ginger ale that he would associate those things with being sick for the rest of his life.**

 **Nichole wasn't the sort of mother who fussed over little things. She only acted like this when something was seriously wrong. When she got like this, it scared Cyrus. It made him think this wasn't a normal fever or tummy-ache. It had to be something much worse. Very briefly, he wondered if he was dying.**

 **Alexander parked the car, shut it off, and came to the side so he could carry Cyrus inside. The three-year-old wrapped his arms tightly around his father's neck and hid his hot face somewhere in Alexander's jacket. "You really are burning up…"**

 **"I told you," Nichole huffed. "I told you this _morning_. I called you again at lunch to tell you he was getting worse, and—"**

 **"Is now really the time to harp at me, Nichole? I got him here, didn't I?"**

 **From the way his father was holding him, Cyrus could see the ground. They were going so fast that the lines in the pavement blurred together, leaving him feeling dizzy. He shut his blue eyes, hoping that would make the spinning sensation stop.**

 **"No, no. Don't do that. Cyrus." Nichole tried her best to keep up, but she was wearing high heels and almost tripped a couple of times. She squeezed Cyrus's hand for support. Her fingers felt like ice. "Stay awake, dear. Don't go to sleep."**

 **But he couldn't help it.**

 **…**

 **When Cyrus woke up, it was still dark outside. At first, he wondered if the whole thing had been a scary, disorienting dream; until he realized the bed he was in wasn't his. It was stiff, hard, and scratchy. "Huh…?"**

 **There wasn't a comforter, either. His house was usually kept at a cold temperature, so he liked to wrap himself up in a thick blanket and curl deep into it for warmth. This bed only had a thin, paper-like sheet. When he reached to grab more of it, he realized he wasn't wearing his pajamas anymore. One look under the blankets and he could tell his legs were naked, too.**

 **While he was asleep, somebody had changed his clothes. He was in a weird bed, wearing nothing but an oversized shirt thing that only covered his front half. His back was shivering from the cold. "Mama…?"**

 **As he became more awake, he noticed other things about the room. The walls were an off-white color with pale pink and mint green tiles halfway down. Chrome handlebars were on a couple of walls. A sink and a big box of gloves were at one corner of the room. A plain wooden door with another handlebar nearby was at another. To his left was a big window showing all the beautiful night lights of downtown Sunyshore.**

 **And there, sitting across from each other in opposite chairs, were his parents.**

 **Nichole was sound asleep in the bigger, cozier chair; her head tilted in a way that Cyrus could tell she'd been looking at him until she dozed off. A few stray strands of silvery-blue hair had broken free from her braid, leaving wisps across her brow and cheeks. Her horn-rimmed glasses were crooked and her mouth was slightly open: just enough for her front teeth and adult braces to be slightly visible. A faint whistling sound came from her nose when she exhaled.**

 **Alexander was still awake, hunched over and staring intently at the faintly glowing screen of his work laptop. Whenever the AC kicked on again, it was enough to cover the subtle sound of his fingers typing at rapid-fire speeds on the built-in keyboard. Whatever he was reading on the computer, he appeared to be angry. Then again, he always looked angry when he read. It didn't matter if it was something for work or leisure. His brow always furrowed, his eyes always narrowed, and his mouth always turned into a flat line.**

 **Years later, his optometrist would tell him he needed to wear glasses when reading and driving.**

 **"Daddy…?" He felt so weak. Just sitting up made his head feel dizzy. "Where—"**

 **"Ah. You're up." Alexander put the computer down and stood up. "Just be quiet. Don't wake your mother." He moved next to the bed and lightly stroked his son's hair, like Cyrus was a pet rather than his progeny. "Everything's going to be just fine."**

 **A fat woman in a white coat popped her head in from the hallway. "You're awake, sweetie?" Very timidly, he nodded his head. "You're here because you're really sick."**

 **"I'm pretty sure he figured that out already," Alexander grumbled. "Cyrus." The boy looked at him. "Nurse Amy is going to have to give you an IV. You're very dehydrated." He had no idea what that meant. "It means she has to stick a needle in your—"**

 **"No." He drew the line there. No needles.**

 **A few months ago, Nichole took him to the pediatrician for a series of routine vaccinations. Cyrus had been perfectly fine until another kid started screaming in an adjacent room. As soon as that doctor showed him the first syringe, he grabbed onto his mother's arms and buried his face in her lap, begging her to take him home. She'd shoved him off and turned her back; not having the stomach to watch the injections, either.**

 **"Once we get some fluids in you, you'll feel better," Nurse Amy insisted. "Can you make a fist for me?"**

 **"No!" This time, he was loud enough to notice his mother move. She curled up into the seat of the chair, turning her back to him so she could keep sleeping. "Please? No shots!"**

 **"Do you need me to hold him down?" Alexander asked, looming over his son. His eyes dared Cyrus to make another sound: making it clear that if he continued to make a scene in the hospital, there would be consequences at home. "Which arm is better?"**

 **"For most, people it's the—"**

 **"DADDY, PLEASE!"**

 **But neither parent was going to help him. Nichole continued to curl up in an attempt to ignore all the noise. She even stole the pillow from Cyrus's bed to cover her ears. Alexander held him in place so tightly that it started to hurt. Cyrus squirmed, trying to get his arm away from the biggest, scariest-looking needle he'd seen in his life, but Nurse Amy poked him with it anyway.**

 **"Oh no. I missed…"**

 **What was she talking about!? He could feel the stab in his arm! It broke the skin, went deep into the—**

 **"Please, hold him again. That didn't make contact with a vein."**

 **"PULL IT OUT! PLEASE, PLEASE…"**

…

"…pull it out…"

That memory lingered on Cyrus's subconscious like a recurring bad dream; passing through his tired brain as he slowly opened his eyes. The familiar sensation of latex-covered fingers on his naked arm pulled him out of his bloodless slumber and back to an unwelcome reality.

Hospitals didn't belong to towns or cities. They were dimensional portals between the living and the dead. People started and ended their lives only a couple of floors apart. They all smelled of disinfectant, industrial grade air fresheners, and the occasional whiff of primal fear.

"We need another quart of Type O," a male nurse remarked. "And add the Golbat venom antidote! We need to pump out the poison gradually, people! You can't rush these things!"

He could feel the needle lodged in his arm. Cyrus tried to slow down his breathing in an attempt to stay calm, but he couldn't. ' _I can't get out!'_ his brain kept telling him. ' _I can't. Somebody's holding me down!_ '

"Do I…" He was trying his best not to hyperventilate. "Do I need it…?" His eyes refused to leave the seemingly massive dark bag of blood coming toward him.

His nurse firmly nodded his head. "Please, try not to make any sudden motions. You lost a lot of blood. The last thing we need is for you to go into shock."

Cyrus's heart wanted out of his ribcage. It pounded, demanding to be let loose. Just like every other part of his body, it wanted to be as far away from that emergency room as humanly possible. "It's—"

As he felt the needle make contact, Cyrus tensed up and tried his best to will his body not to feel it. It didn't work. Parts of his body turned white, but his arteries darkened: creating a stress-filled latticework of scarlet just beneath the surface. "How bad is it?"

"Let's just say that if we'd waited another ten minutes, you'd be in the morgue instead of this room." That wasn't what he wanted to hear. "But you made it here just in time. The girl who brought you to the ER was very helpful. She applied First Aid and informed us that your injuries came from a Golbat."

' _Yes…yes, that's right…_ ' Since he'd kept drifting in and out of consciousness, Cyrus was a bit hazy on the details.

He vaguely remembered Cynthia flashing her foreign badges at Golbat to stop him from attacking. She wouldn't shut up, either; but he understood what she was trying to do. She tried to force a conversation, just to make sure Cyrus stayed alert and didn't faint. He blacked out anyway.

"Luckily, Golbat attacks are easy to treat…so long as the patient is brought to us within the first six to eight hours. We saw you only after two. You'll be sore for a few days, but you can expect to make a full recovery."

That was good news, and he'd be sure to thank Cynthia for rushing him to the hospital once he saw her again. He hated being around doctors and that would never change, but some of the panic was starting to dissipate. Thanks to his friend, he'd live to see another day. There wouldn't even be any permanent or lasting damage. But there was last question: one that was going to gnaw at him until he heard an answer.

"Do I have to stay overnight?"

"I know you don't want to hear this; but extracting venom from a poisonous Pokémon takes time. For Golbat bites, the recommended treatment is a series of antidote-infused blood transfusions. We've already started treatment, but we'll need to monitor you for about three to four days. Some people have allergic reactions to the medication, you see…and…"

' _No…no, if my parents find out about that…_ ' If his hospital stay didn't kill him, Alexander and Nichole would.

Cyrus had no idea how the Kinzonian healthcare system billed its foreign patients, but overnight hospital stays in Sinnoh were insanely expensive. The stress from a possible multiple-day stay in this hospital made him feel sicker than the toxins the blood transfusion hoped to pump out. Every little thing got charged on the bill: even a cup of water or a single ibuprofen. "Is there a phone in here?"

"What?"

"Is there a _phone_?" He hated to raise his voice, but his anxiety was getting the worst of him. "This is Kalium City, right?"

"Yes, but—"

"What's the number for the Trainers Lodge?" Cynthia would be there. Right now, Cyrus didn't want to have to deal with his parents. He just wanted to talk to the one person who would actually give a shit he was in here.


	27. The City of Second-Rates

' _They'll call when he's awake. I'll hear something soon. After that, I can take everyone to the Pokémon Center and make sure we're all okay._ '

At least their Eevees were perfectly fine. Cynthia wasn't able to call her Eevee out to battle against Natela, and it looked like Cyrus's Eevee completely bypassed the Avdantil fight. Both were still at full health. Spiritomb had taken quite a beating, but it would be alright. Golbat would physically be okay once he saw a nurse, but Cynthia was more worried about his emotional health. Guano Lisa…

There wasn't anything the nurse could do for Guano Lisa.

As much as she wanted to rush over there, give all the Pokémon to a certified nurse, and feel like she at least accomplished _something_ today; Cynthia couldn't do that until she heard back from Kalium General Hospital. It could be another hour…or four. Worst case scenario, the call would come after curfew. If that happened, she'd have no choice but to treat the Pokémon tomorrow. At least none of them were in critical condition.

Her choices were simple: sit in the room and be left alone with her thoughts, or come down to the lobby and hang out with the Lodge Owner. Considering the Eevees were driving her crazy in the private room, she decided to put them back in their balls and do the latter. Zed seemed like a nice guy and at least she'd hear the phone if the hospital called.

When she came downstairs, Zed was at the front desk and in the middle of inking a friend's artwork. The pencil sketches alone were gorgeous, but the black ink brought out the work's best potential. The characters came to life, as did their actions. A beautiful concept turned into a perfectly rendered masterpiece in mere minutes. Cynthia could kill an entire afternoon just watching him work.

The picture Zed was finalizing appeared to be a black and white portrait. An aging beauty stared back from the paper: statuesque, voluptuous, and with an expression so fierce that Cynthia was pretty sure this woman intimidated others in real life. She almost wanted to ask who she was.

"Did you just come down to watch me work, or would you be up for a little small talk?" Zed put his art supplies down and gave Cynthia a sheepish expression. "It's alright if you aren't feeling chatty. I just get a bit lonely down here."

It was one thing when the Gym Leader tried to have little chit-chats with her rather than concentrating on the road. The Lodge Owner was doing this to put her at ease: to make her feel more at home in the Lodge. She could appreciate this.

"I can talk," Cynthia decided, giving Zed a little smile. "What did you want to talk about?"

"I didn't have anything specific in mind. How about your hometown? I saw on your Trainer ID that you're from Celestic Town. That must be an interesting place to live, what with all the ruins and museums."

Cynthia's smile turned a bit bashful. "It's a fun place to live if you're a history buff," which she was, "but you get used to that kind of thing after a while. My grandmother wrote her dissertation on those ruins. Now she's the head archaeologist and studies them full time. Both of my parents are archeologists, too."

"That's very interesting! Do they work with your grandmother?"

"No. They're finishing up an expedition in Unova, but they're hoping to study the Geosenge Town stones in Kalos soon. They've wanted to do that for years, but they can't apply for another grant until they exhaust their current one."

Assuming they were even able to convince Canalave University to approve the grant, the Kalos expedition probably wouldn't come to fruition for at least another year or two. If her parents were serious about going—and Cynthia was quite sure they were—she wanted to see if they'd be amenable to traveling together. They'd explored Unova's Relic Castle as a family last year and she'd had a grand time. Doing a full Kalos journey and catching up with her parents would be nice.

"Kalos is an interesting country," Zed remarked. "I've never been there, but I've met some very interesting Kalosian trainers. Last October, a Kalosian man booked the entire third floor. He only had a couple of other people traveling with him: certainly not enough to merit booking all twelve rooms. It struck me as odd, but then I started paying attention to what he was doing.

"When everyone came down for meals, he'd sit at a different table each time. Very quickly, he got to know the other trainers pretty well. If someone was sick, injured, or having a rough time; he'd give them one of his rooms free of charge. Before he left, I asked him about it. He said he did the same thing in Plumbum City. This was just his way of making sure the rooms went to the people who actually needed them, rather than simply those who could afford them."

Cynthia couldn't help but smile when she heard that. "I guess he had more money than he knew what to do with. Private rooms aren't exactly cheap." From across the counter, she could hear Zed chuckle. "I'm serious! Professor Myrtle doesn't pay us all that much. Cyrus is going to be in the hospital for a few days, and that means he can't battle and earn more prize money. I'll need to keep a tight budget if we're going to—"

"Don't worry about the money, Miss Cynthia. As cozy as my public barracks are, I'd never force an incapacitated person to sleep in them. If you and your friend come up a little short for the private room fee, it's alright. We'll call it even if you cook a meal or scrub a few toilets. Most Lodge Owners are willing to negotiate for that sort of thing."

"Are you sure?" If Zed was serious, then that was a godsend. As nice as the old man running the Plumbum City Lodge seemed, Cynthia wasn't so sure he'd work out that kind of arrangement. Plumbum City had _way_ more challengers. "I don't want you to think we're taking advantage of you."

"Oh, you aren't! Nobody opens a Trainers Lodge to get rich. I wanted to be a Lodge Owner because I love Pokémon trainers. When trainers look back on their time in my country, I want Kalium City to be one of the places they remember most fondly. It's a lovely city filled with fun, talented, and friendly people."

Cynthia could tell Zed carried a lot of pride for his town. That was a good thing to have. "I guess I haven't seen your city's good side yet, aside from you and your friend. Your Gym Leader's a jerk."

Zed laughed. "Oh, I won't even attempt to refute that. Comrade Melkadze isn't my favorite person, either; but he certainly exudes the Kalium City spirit. We're an entertainment hub. All the newscasters, TV personalities, radio hosts, and film stars who aren't quite big enough to live in Aurum City move out here. Officially, our postcards call us _the_ _Capitol City of Kinzonian Creativity_ , but unofficially? The locals call us _the_ _City of Second-Rates_."

"Well, there's nothing second-rate about the way you've treated me! You've been great. I'm sorry if I'm hogging all your time."

"It's quite alright! Would you believe most people don't want anything to do with the Lodge Owners after they check in? They'll even go out of their way to avoid us! I love talking to my guests! Besides, I know you're probably just trying to kill time until the hospital calls to tell you how your friend's doing."

"I'm really worried about him, Zed. Cyrus lost a _lot_ of blood."

"I know it's none of my business…" Zed took a sip of coffee, and then stirred more creamer into his cup. "But what exactly happened to you two? Most of southern Kinzo is relatively safe terrain, especially in coastal cities like Kalium and Hydrargyrum. You really only see gang activity up north."

"Did you hear about the incident at the Metro today?"

"Team Sigma and an electromagnetic bomb, right? This is related to that?" Cynthia nodded her head to confirm. "Oh dear. I hope you don't think my country's like this all the time! Most of us are perfectly normal, law-abiding people!"

Cynthia was about to say something else, but the phone rang. Zed got up to get it, placing the receiver to his ear. "Kalium City Trainers Lodge. Zed speaking." There was a long pause as he leaned into the phone. "I see. Yes, she's here. Let me pass the phone to her."

Zed made a gesture for Cynthia to leave her seat and take the phone. This call was meant for her. Cynthia rushed out of her chair so quickly that she nearly knocked her coffee cup over. She caught it, but some of the hot liquid splashed on her mitten. It hurt a bit, but cooled off enough where it wouldn't do much more than turn her skin pink. When she peeled the mitten off later, there wouldn't be a blister.

"Is that the hospital?" Zed didn't even have an opportunity to verbally confirm before she was over there. "Is it Cyrus's doctor? Is he okay?!"

"Uh…" Zed's expression turned a tad anxious when he handed the phone over to Cynthia. "Actually, I think your _friend_ is on the line. He's not in a good mood."

That didn't surprise Cynthia one bit. Nobody was in a good mood when they were tired and in a lot of pain. When she first came into the Battle Car, Cyrus was so afraid of his Golbat that he'd curled himself into a protective ball and shivered all over. And as terrible an ordeal as that was, the thought of going to a hospital seemed to scare him even more.

Cynthia's phone call with Cyrus's father only confirmed what she'd already suspected: he was scared of doctors. Until Mr. Akagi told her just how bad his son's anxiety was; Cynthia only had a clue.

Knowing what she knew now, she was pretty sure that waking up in a hospital bed with nobody but unfamiliar doctors around had probably freaked Cyrus out more than anything he'd witnessed in the Battle Car. He probably wanted to berate her for dumping him with the doctors. She'd give him a pass because of the circumstances.

"Cyrus? Is that—"

"Get me out of here."

Cynthia waited a moment, just to see if he'd raise his voice and yell. The phone call with Mr. Akagi had mostly involved avoiding the emotional landmines that would cause the man to shout and curse. She wasn't sure if Cyrus would do the same once he realized he'd be in the hospital for a few days.

"Cyrus…" She felt terrible. The doctors wouldn't let her visit until his parents authorized her as an approved party. Although Mr. Akagi signed off to give her permission to see Cyrus, she couldn't sign him out. All she could do was visit.

"Please..."

If Cyrus had berated her, Cynthia's conscience wouldn't have taken such a heavy hit. There wasn't a trace of rage in his voice. All she heard was fear, exhaustion, and desperation. Zed's phone didn't have a video screen; but Cynthia was pretty sure that if it did, Cyrus would be looking at her like she'd just betrayed him. "I'm sorry. I can't. I don't have the authority to do that. You can't leave the hospital until the doctors say you can."

"You don't understand." She could hear him taking rushed, hurried breaths. He was hyperventilating. "They said…they said it's going to be _days_ …"

She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly. Hopefully, he'd do the same. She was trying her best to hold in what she felt. On top of everything else, Cyrus did not need to hear her cry. "When we were in the ER; they told me that, too. But I've been given the all clear to visit you, alright? I can come by every day. I'll find out what the visiting hours are and stick around until a nurse tells me to leave. I can even come by this afternoon."

"No, I…" He stammered over his words a couple of times. "Nuh-n-not today. I don't…I don't want you seeing me like this." There was a very long and pregnant pause between them. Cynthia kept expecting Cyrus to say something else. Once or twice, she heard a noise like the start of a word, but he didn't finish it. She'd wait a few seconds, and then he'd do it again. "Tomorrow, maybe…?"

She forced herself to smile, even though he couldn't see her. "You've got it. I'll be there bright and early. And hey! We have a private room! I've unpacked all your things, and I'm taking our Pokémon to see a nurse this afternoon. Once you're better, everything will be ready for you: especially Eevee. He misses you so much that he's beating up _my_ Eevee."

At first, she thought she heard static on the other end. Then it quit. When it happened again, she realized she'd mistaken the noise. Cyrus was crying…or at least trying to suck it in and pretend he wasn't. Poor guy. His nerves were probably shot.

"I don't know how chatty you'll feel tonight, but I wrote down our room's extension. I think local calls are free." At least, that's what the Lodge Owner told Cynthia in Plumbum City. She doubted the phone rules would be any different here. "I'll take dinner up to my room. We can stay up all night. It's not like I have anything better to do, you know? It's really boring in here without you."

Hopefully, that would calm him down enough where he felt like he could breathe again. "You don't mind?"

"Would I have suggested it if I did?" Based on the sounds she heard from the other side of the call, she could tell this was probably where they needed to end the conversation. Any more than this, and she'd exhaust him. "I'm here, Cyrus. All you have to do is pick up that phone and I'll be there to listen."

In response, all she received were a few more nervous breaths, something reminiscent of a relieved sigh, a click…and dial tone.


	28. Kalium City Pokemon Center

**Author's Note: Chapters 28-38 are brand new chapters that my beta readers didn't receive in the original run. They exist because I noticed a trend in my reviews: y'all** ** _really_** **like the Eevees.**

 **Thanks to your overwhelmingly positive feedback, I've opted to include more scenes with them (and the other Pokémon) for additional characterization in the Kalium City arc. These chapters are my way of thanking all of you for your lovely reviews!**

 **This chapter is dedicated to ShpperofTrashyShips, Seiauton, Kaless, and Ultimate Blazer…but also to my two magnificent cats. Gaius and Bogie were my source of inspiration for these Eevees, and there's never a dull moment with them.**

…

The blizzard from earlier had finally subsided. When Cynthia looked out the window, she could see the buildings across the street from the Trainers Lodge. The Pokémon Center was just a little further down the block: an easy walk.

She went back upstairs to the private room, planning to grab her coat and the Pokémon. Even before she opened the door, she could hear what sounded like a bit of Eevee drama. "Veeeeeeeeeeeee," her Eevee whined. Whatever was going on in there, he didn't like it. The noise started low at first, but grew higher pitched and more frantic.

"Hey!" Cynthia reached for the key to unlock her room, but knocked first so her Pokémon would know she was back. "Whatever you're doing in there, knock it off!" The noise stopped, but picked up again around the time she opened the door.

Her Eevee was crouched down in a loaf position with his head pulled back and mouth wide open. He'd been the one making the sounds, and Cynthia now saw why. Cyrus's Eevee was on top of him: scruffing his neck and mounting his backside. Each time her Eevee made a noise in protest, Cyrus's Eevee licked his ears. "VEE!"

"No, sir!" Cynthia snapped, picking Cyrus's Eevee up. As soon as she did that, he flopped in her arms and tried to nuzzle his cheek to her face. He smelled like Oran Berries. "Oh, no no. Your charms aren't gonna work on me, mister. I saw what you were doing!"

At her ankles, her Eevee proceeded to rant in his own language. He wanted Cynthia to hear about every single indignity he suffered while she was away. His bushy tail swished back and forth. "Vee vee vee! VEE."

Cynthia rolled her eyes and reached for the Poké Balls. "I don't have time for this right now. Let's just get you guys to a nurse." Spiritomb and Golbat needed it more, but it wouldn't hurt to have everyone looked at.

The last thing she grabbed in the room was Guano Lisa's tiny, bundled up body. ' _You deserved better than this,_ ' she thought as her fingers curled into the fabric.

She'd tell the nurse every gory, graphic detail Cyrus shared with her. If there was anything they could do to revoke Avdantil's Trainer License, Cynthia would do it in a heartbeat. It was too late for Guano Lisa, but maybe she could save Bidoofus and whatever other unfortunate Pokémon were stuck with that sadistic jackass.

' _You're gonna pay, Avdantil. I can't undo what happened, but I can at least make sure you never do this to another innocent Pokémon as long as you live!_ '

…

Considering all the commotion that took place earlier in the day, it came as no surprise to Cynthia that the Pokémon Center would be packed with people. She recognized a lot of them from the train, but there were plenty of new faces too.

"I'm getting really sick of seeing white tile everywhere," a balding middle-aged man grumbled to a college-aged girl. Both were wearing matching green and white sweatshirts. "Pokémon Centers, Hospitals, Metro Stations—even the Police Departments! How do you think they keep them so clean?"

"Bleach, Dad," the girl grumbled, keeping an unruly Pachirisu in her arms so it wouldn't run away. "Lots and lots and _lots_ of bleach."

Cynthia had wondered a bit about that, too. By nature, people and Pokémon were kind of messy. Her shoes could leave scuff marks. She or a Pokémon could sneeze, throw up, cough, spit, or bleed somewhere. Some Grass and Poison Pokémon left spores, slime, and residue behind—especially when they were excited or startled. And yet, for whatever reason, it seemed like almost every public facility other than the Trainers Lodges decided white tile was the way to go.

At least the line appeared to be moving. Multiple nurses were on call, keeping every station active. As soon as a nurse was ready to accept another trainer's Pokémon, a green light flashed. Once a station was occupied, a red light came on. To the far left, Cynthia spotted a station with a bright blue light. She tried to make herself taller by standing on her tip-toes, just so she could get a better look.

"The nurse on the far right just opened up. You might want to call dibs before somebody else does."

Wait! She knew that voice! To Cynthia's right, she could see a familiar friendly face smiling at her. "Renata?! Hey!"

The old woman held out her arms, making it clear she'd happily give Cynthia a hug if she wanted one—which of _course_ she did! After all the bullshit she'd gone through today, a hug was more than welcome! "Are you alright, dear? You look like you've been through quite an ordeal."

"That's an understatement," Cynthia admitted before pulling out of the one-armed hug. "You know a train got attacked by Team Sigma, right? Cyrus and I were on it. I'm okay, but he'll be in the hospital for a few days."

Renata's eyes grew big. When she frowned, her double chin looked even more pronounced. "Oh dear. He was out of sorts last night, too. I don't know what caused it, but he was very upset."

This was Cynthia's first time hearing about that. Cyrus had barely spoken to her all day, but he was obviously hungover when they boarded the Metro. This whole time, she'd just assumed he couldn't hold his liquor and partied too hard with some of the older trainers—Isaac and Eric, probably. They seemed like the sort who would spike a drink.

' _Did he try to call his mother?_ ' she wondered. ' _Or did someone at the Lodge say something to him?_ ' Once Cyrus was cleared for visitors, Cynthia wanted to ask him what was wrong. More than that, she was internally beating herself up for not noticing it.

"What on earth happened to him?"

Cynthia took a deep breath and wiped her face. She wasn't crying, but her face felt hot. "You're Kinzonian, right? Do you know about Team Sigma?"

Renata nervously nodded her head, already afraid of where this was headed.

"Back in Plumbum City, we stopped a couple of their Gammas from taking a Pokémon. They were on our train. When one of them recognized Cyrus, he dragged him into a Battle Car. He wouldn't let him out unless they traditional battled."

Not every trainer from Cynthia's generation knew what traditional battling was, but Renata was certainly old enough to recognize the term. The old lady's complexion changed to the color of cottage cheese. Her brown eyes glanced down toward the bloody bundle in Cynthia's arms. One of Guano Lisa's crushed legs was sticking out. "Please tell me that isn't Cyrus's Zubat."

"Huh? Oh! No! Nooooo, no no…" Cynthia looked down at the bundle and winced. Her fingers brushed against the fabric, as if she were stroking a sleeping baby instead of the dead broken thing she was actually carrying. "Cyrus was careful. He didn't lose any Pokémon in that battle." In fact, his Zubat was so over-leveled that it evolved into a Golbat during that fight. "This is Guano Lisa. She belonged to the Gamma who attacked him."

"Did Cyrus—"

"No!" She was very firm about that. "He didn't do this, nor would he ever!" As aloof and broody as Cyrus could be, Cynthia knew he'd never intentionally hurt a Pokémon. Every time he battled, it was always by the book. "A Pokémon wasn't responsible for this and neither was Cyrus. This Zubat was beaten to death by her own trainer."

She couldn't hold in what she felt anymore. All the tears Cynthia held inside when she talked to the Lodge Owner started to fall. Renata reached out to touch her face, brushing away some of the larger droplets with her thumb. Cynthia clutched the bundle to her chest and tried her best to tuck the foot back inside. The body was too horrible to look at. "When I found Cyrus in there, I couldn't…I just didn't have it in me to leave her."

"You did the right thing," Renata reassured her younger friend. "But I want you to listen to me very carefully. It isn't enough to take a dead Pokémon to a nurse. Do you want to report her trainer?"

"Of course I do! That Zubat-murdering son of a Houndour has other Pokémon! He shouldn't be allowed to train them, let alone keep them!"

"There's no reason to yell at me, honey. I agree with you! This isn't the first time I've encountered something like this, either. If the two of you end up visiting some of the smaller towns, you'll run into this again. A lot of rural trainers prefer death battles over standard league battles."

"You can't be serious! Who in their right mind would actually want to fight their Pokémon to the—"

"Did you ever stop to wonder why seven of our gyms are located in cities? _That's_ why. Even then, you'll have to look out for this when you get to the fourth gym. The Ferrum Town Gym Leader is a good man, but most of the locals aren't. That place is a cesspool. You'll probably hate it just as much as I do."

' _Go figure. That's one of the gyms we need to complete in order to do our research._ ' Cynthia felt like she was going to be sick. When Renata offered her hand, Cynthia accepted it and followed her through the crowd. "Where are you taking me?"

"We're going to the head nurse's office. All the nurses on the floor are junior nurses. Yulia should be able to walk you through how to report a wrongful Pokémon death. If you like, I can stick around. I know you're a big girl and can probably handle this all by yourself, but I'm here for moral support if you need it."

Cynthia had needed to be a "big girl" all day. When the people on the train were too scared to battle Natela, she and Spiritomb stepped up. When Cyrus's Golbat tried to attack him, Cynthia thought fast and used her foreign badges to get the Pokémon back under control.

She'd stuck around to make sure Cyrus received the emergency medical care he needed for his bites, and even navigated the disaster just to get him to the hospital. She'd checked into the Trainers Lodge, unpacked, and come here. It was non-stop action all day without a single scrap of support from anyone else. Moral support would be most welcome.

"And can you do me one little favor, dear?"

"Huh? Sure. What do you need?"

Renata pulled a tiny leather notebook out of her coat pocket, as well as a pen. "I don't know if our poor incapacitated friend will feel friendly enough for visitors these next few days, but I'd love to see him—assuming he's amenable. Do you have his family's home phone number? I need parental permission to visit."

"I just talked to his dad a couple of hours ago. I'll give you the number later, okay?"

…

Although Renata had volunteered to stick around, Cynthia quickly realized there wasn't enough room in Nurse Yulia's office for her. It was little more than a converted coat closet in the back of the Pokémon Center: barely enough for two office chairs and a tiny desk that was almost entirely taken up by a large, clunky analog computer.

"Everything's going to be alright," Renata insisted. "How about I take the other Pokémon to a junior nurse while you do this?"

Cynthia didn't even hesitate to turn them over. She and Cyrus both had battled Renata enough times in Plumbum City that all of their Pokémon would recognize her. It wasn't like she was entrusting a complete stranger with them. "Thanks again, for everything."

"Don't worry about it, dear. You've been a lovely friend and I want to help. I'll wait for you in the lobby."

Once the door closed and Cynthia took a seat, she turned back around to get a good look at the head nurse.

Nurse Yulia was a large woman: tall, muscular, and big-boned. Instead of the standard pastel pink uniform, Yulia's was a delicate baby blue. Her short, spiky hair was a dark navy blue with plenty of gray mixed in. A big pair of amber-tinted glasses with thick clear plastic frames covered her face. Those hadn't been popular since the late 1970s, and Cynthia doubted they'd make a comeback anytime soon.

Yulia's advanced Pokémon medical certification was on display to Cynthia's left, and some kind of informational poster was on the right. It was in Kinzonian. Cynthia couldn't read it. "What's that poster for?"

Yulia put out her cigarette, rubbing its butt into a glass ashtray. "Oh, that? When we first installed our PokéScanners, that instructional poster came with it. It shows you where to locate the serial number on a Poké Ball, as well as how to scan it into the system. Do you know what a PokéScanner is?"

Cynthia shook her head. "Sorry, no. I don't think they use those in my region."

"I'd be shocked if they did! The company that makes them does domestic sales only." She held up what looked like a miniature barcode scanner, similar to the ones Cynthia saw at supermarkets and PokéMarts. "Every time you bring your Pokémon to a Kinzonian Pokémon Center; our medical machines will scan your Poké Balls and record their serial numbers. The PokéScanner software will match those serial numbers to the Trainer ID you used to sign in for medical care.

"We do it for a number of reasons. Let's say you were in a rush at the Metro and accidentally left a Pokémon behind. If another trainer finds its ball and brings it to a Pokémon Center, all we have to do is scan the ball to find out who the Pokémon belongs to. Then we can mail it to the closest Pokémon Center and give it back to you in no time at all.

"It's an anti-theft precaution, too. South Kinzo doesn't have to worry about this very often, but some of the northern trainers have a bad habit of taking other people's Pokémon when they get desperate. If we've scanned your Pokémon in the past and they're suddenly traveling with another trainer, we'll query the system to see if you have any of the new trainer's Pokémon. It would indicate a trade if you did and a theft if you didn't. If that happens, we'll contact you to see if you authorized the transfer. The moment you say you didn't, we'll notify the police _and_ get your Pokémon back.

"But let's talk about the reason that's most important to you. The PokéScanner—"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Nurse Yulia, but…" Cynthia cleared her throat. "You'll see my Pokémon receive care under a different Trainer ID today. If Cyrus Akagi's in your system, you'll see that for his Eevee and Golbat, too. I don't know her Trainer ID number, but we authorized Renata Cordova to take our Pokémon to a junior nurse. She won't get in trouble, will she?"

As scary-looking as Nurse Yulia was, she had a matronly smile. The computer made a couple of noises and illuminated the dim room with a pale green glow. The light didn't do the nurse's aged face any favors. All it managed to do was further accentuate her furrows and frown lines.

"No, kid," Nurse Yulia insisted. "She won't. I'll put a note in here for the junior nurses that you've authorized Mrs. Cordova to handle those Pokémon. But let's get back to the matter at hand, shall we? You're here to report a wrongful Pokémon death. Is that correct?"

"Yes, ma'am." Cynthia held up the blood-soaked jacket and handed it over to the nurse. "This Zubat was beaten to death by her trainer. I want to report him."

"As you should." Nurse Yulia peeled the sleeves back gently, like an archaeologist attempting to delicately untie a body from a Cofagrigus attack. "We see accidental deaths sometimes, but this was deliberate. When this man dies, I hope he comes back as a Pokémon—just so he knows what it feels like! I have no sympathy for abusive trainers. They need to face the consequences for their actions."

The closer to the corpse the garment was, the redder and stiffer the fabric became. At least the grisly details weren't too visible in the dark. Cynthia didn't know if she could handle looking at the body in a well-lit room. That sort of thing would burn into her brain forever.

Once Guano Lisa was carefully separated from Cyrus's ruined jacket, Nurse Yulia placed her on a small metal examination tray and moved the tray to the far edge of her desk. "It's good that you were able to retrieve the corpse. Obviously, we can't bring her back from the dead; but we can at least give her a proper cremation and decommission her Poké Ball." The nurse reached for the PokéScanner connected to her computer and held out a large, mannish hand. "You _did_ grab the Poké Ball, I presume?"

But all Cynthia could do was shake her head. Her entire face felt hot. It wasn't shame, embarrassment, rage, or grief: but some strange and milder combination of all four emotions. So many things were rushing through her head that it was getting hard to concentrate. All she could really do was look at the sad, dark lump on the tray. "I'm sorry. I didn't know I was supposed to grab the ball."

Nurse Yulia's sigh was audible. She reached in her pocket for a baby blue handkerchief and placed it over the dead Pokémon: a small sign of modesty. "It happens, kid. Don't sweat it too much. I hope you never run into this kind of tragedy again; but if you do, just remember to bring the Poké Ball next time. I'll just have to report this the old-fashioned way."

The nurse opened the top drawer of her desk and pulled out a periwinkle clipboard with a cartoon Azumarill on the back. She reached a little further into the desk for a specific form, pulled it out of a binder, and attached it to the board. "This is Form 164-C: Third Party Notification of Pokémon Death. This part of the process isn't unique to Kinzo. If you run into this situation again and you're somewhere that's affiliated with the International Pokémon League; you'll do exactly what we're doing right now. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"While we fill this out, I'll enter your answers into the PokéScanner system manually. Maybe we can figure out who killed this poor Zubat. Let's start at the beginning, shall we? Were you a witness to the death? Did you see it happen?"

"No, but my traveling partner was. He didn't come in here with me, though. He's in the hospital because of this." Nurse Yulia jotted down the answer and replicated it into the computer. "But Cyrus told me what happened. We were riding the Metro into Kalium City and he got up to use the bathroom. While he was in the middle of washing his hands, Guano Lisa's trainer—"

"Ah. So you knew this Zubat well enough to know her nickname. That's good. There's a lot of registered Zubats in the system. Nicknames are a good way to narrow down the odds."

Cynthia was quite sure that only Avdantil would be cruel enough to nickname a Zubat something poop-related, but she kept that comment to herself. "I know the trainer's first name, too. It's Avdantil." A part of her was mildly pleased to see Nurse Yulia made note of that, too. "He forced my friend to participate in a death match. Guano Lisa was losing her match, and Avdantil…"

She had to take a deep breath to go through this next part. "He grabbed her by her legs until they broke, and then he kept bashing her against the wall. Once his arms got tired, he threw her onto the ground and stomped her until she stopped moving. Cyrus's Zubat really liked her. He isn't taking her death very well."

Was it just her imagination, or did that nurse's eyes look wet? It could have been a trick of the light. "Well …I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that traditional battling is perfectly legal in rural areas and inside Battle Cars. Since you didn't witness this firsthand, the most I'll be able to do to this Zubat's trainer is confiscate all his other Pokémon the next time he comes to a Pokémon Center."

"That's _it_?! What if I asked Cyrus to come in here after he's out of the hospital? He could tell you what Avdantil—"

Nurse Yulia pulled her upper body across the desk. Although her face was firm, her eyes were very sincere. "I'm sorry. If it were up to me, we'd slather this bastard in honey and throw him to the Ursarings; but I don't write the law. This kind of incident will leave a permanent mark on his Trainer License, but it won't prevent him from capturing or adopting more Pokémon. For people like this, all you can really do is keep reporting them. Once his Pokémon fatality count is up to three, _then_ I can forward his information along to the KSP."

This wasn't fair! What kind of bullshit law was that?! Three Pokémon had to die before Avdantil got something more than a stupid slap on the wrist?! "What's the good news?" Cynthia asked, hesitation already building in her voice.

"The information you gave me matched a record we already have on file. If you want to come over to my side of the desk, I can show you his profile."

…

 **Name: Avdantil Iraklishvili**

 **Age: 19**

 **Trainer ID: 49472**

 **Hometown: Ferrum Town, Kinzo**

 **Registered Pokémon: Bidoof (AKA Bidoofus, active), Burmy (AKA Burminator, active), Stunky (AKA Spunk McSkunk, deceased), Zubat (AKA Guano Lisa, deceased)**

 **Additional Notes:**

 **Oct. 9, 1985 – Trainer ID 49312 (Yuri Vyrvykhvist - Kinzo) filed a 164-C against Iraklishvili for intentional death of Stunky "Spunky McSkunk." Incident was recorded by Stannum City Head Nurse Christine Pavelovna. Vyrvykhvist left no additional comments with the nurse, but had to file a 164-D (Trainer-Reported Death) three days later.**

 **Mar. 29, 1987 - Trainer ID 07226 (Cynthia Shirona - Sinnoh) filed a second 164-C against Iraklishvili for intentional death of Zubat "Guano Lisa." Incident was recorded by Kalium City Head Nurse Yulia Karenina. Additional statement (Iraklishvili is a Gamma in Team Sigma) was also recorded and forwarded to the KSP.**

Cynthia must have read over that print-out of Avdantil's record seven or eight times. ' _One more strike,_ ' she realized, clutching the edges of the paper so tight that they crumpled. ' _If you screw up and kill a Pokémon one more time, you're OUT. And now I know who you are! I'm going to make sure you—_ '

"How did everything go with Yulia, dear?"

Cynthia jumped and shoved the paper deep into her coat. "Fine! It went fine!" When Renata raised her left eyebrow at that, Cynthia took a moment to calm down. "I was able to identify Guano Lisa's trainer. Nurse Yulia said they'll confiscate his Pokémon the next time he brings them to a Center, but he's killed before! There was a Stunky before this!"

"May I have a look at that paper?" The old lady held out one hand and used the other to reach for her glasses. They were dangling around her neck on a chain, like a pendant. Once Cynthia handed over the paper, Renata's usually friendly face turned into a scowl. "Ah. Somehow, it doesn't surprise me that he's from Ferrum Town. They're degenerates, all of them."

"I'd expect my grandmother to talk like that, but you? I'm a little surprised to hear that kind of talk from you. You've practically been everyone's babushka since Plumbum City!"

"Not for Ferrum Town trainers, I'm not!" Renata returned the list and held up both hands. "Once you go out there, you'll understand. Those people don't hold lives in high value: Pokémon, people, or otherwise. It's all blood and violence and death to them. Some of us have been pressuring the Kinzo League to move the fourth gym for years, but does anyone listen? _Nyet_!"

' _Okay. I've been here long enough to know she just said no._ ' Cynthia offered her arm, noticing that her older friend was starting to have some trouble walking. "Come on, Renata. Let's get back into the Trainers Lodge before we miss curfew."

Yet the whole while, she could still hear that old lady cursing an entire town. For somebody with that much love in her heart to hate a place that much…what happened? What was her story?


	29. Much Ado About Eevees

Renata Cordova despised an entire Kinzonian town, but never elaborated on why. When Cynthia tried to nudge her for more details, the old lady conveniently spotted someone she knew and excused herself to say hello.

By dinnertime, Cynthia recognized nearly half of the people in the Kalium City Trainers Lodge. Tamari and her older brother were here, and so were Isaac and his gang. More familiar faces trickled in by sundown, all ready to see what the Lodge Owner had in store for dinner.

True to Zed's word, it was Alolan takeout. A local chain recently opened up, so he used his meal budget to place a mass order for his guests. Although some of the Kinzonian trainers sang the restaurant's praises, something about Cynthia's entrée seemed slightly off. She wasn't too familiar with the Alola region or its cuisine; but it tasted like someone poured the fruit out of a can, washed away the sugary syrup that kept it from spoiling, and tried to pass it off as fresh…like a fruit cocktail she could chew. It wasn't pleasant.

Although Zed insisted she should stay long enough to try a malasada for dessert, Cynthia couldn't bring herself to do it. After the emotional rollercoaster she'd endured today, the last thing she wanted was to eat anything too rich or heavy. In the end, all Zed could convince her to do was take a small berry cup up to her room.

She promised to eat it later. She just didn't specify when.

…

"Okay, everybody. You can come out now." Since all four Pokémon behaved for the nurses, it only felt right to reward them with some free time in the room.

It hadn't surprised Cynthia to hear that Cyrus's Eevee was a model patient. He tended to be nothing short of angelic during checkups, especially if a nurse decided to give him some extra pampering. All they had to do was give him a treat, a belly rub, or a few playful scratches behind the ear. After that, they could do whatever they wanted with him.

The same could not be said for her Eevee. He wasn't exactly bad for the nurses, but he could be a bit of a drama queen. As soon as they put Eevee on the counter; he'd grumble and growl until he sounded like a sad, half-capsized boat motor. Even then, he was all bark and no bite—unless a nurse tried to clip his nails. Then all bets were off. Even then, that was nothing compared to Spiritomb.

Every Pokémon Center visit, the nurses only had a 50/50 shot at getting Spiritomb to cooperate. It terrorized the Plumbum City nurses so badly that they refused to treat it until Cynthia brought it back in a Poké Ball. By some miracle, it behaved for the Kalium City nurses. They'd apparently informed Renata that even though Spiritomb wasn't exactly friendly, it seemed to be too tired to pick a fight.

None of those evaluations surprised Cynthia. The junior nurse's report on Golbat, however, did. Not only was he well-behaved, but he actively pointed out which areas hurt to make the nurse's job easier. He even earned an extra Oran Berry because he was the friendliest patient she'd had all day.

It was a glowing review, but Cynthia had a hard time believing it. Just a few hours ago, that same Golbat nearly mauled Cyrus to death. He only quit when she pulled out a complete set of foreign badges. This didn't even sound like the same Pokémon!

She took a deep breath, releasing him last. The nurse said he was good, but she needed to see that for herself.

As soon as Golbat left his ball, he immediately began looking around the room for Cyrus. Once he confirmed his trainer was nowhere to be found, the big bat smiled at Cynthia and flapped his wings in a friendly gesture. She waved at him, which only made him flap more excitedly.

"Why, hello to you, too!" Cynthia plucked a berry out of her dessert cup and tossed it to Golbat.

He zipped through the air and caught it, making happy munching noises with his big mouth. She hesitantly held out an arm, wondering if Golbat would let her pet him. She gave him multiple opportunities to scoot away and go someplace else, but he didn't. Instead, he lowered his head to her level, as if to make it easier for her to give him attention.

When her hand made contact with the top of his head, Golbat lightly bumped against Cynthia's palm and grinned. "So much for Big Bad Scary Golbat. I guess you're just mad at Avdantil and Cyrus, huh?"

It worried her a bit. In the end, this wasn't her Pokémon. Golbat still belonged to Cyrus…and Cyrus didn't have enough badges to control him. What if they ran into more sadists like Avdantil in other towns? If this happened again—

"Bat?" Golbat pointed toward the dresser and craned his head back. It didn't take long for Cynthia to realize Golbat was looking for the bloody jacket where Guano Lisa used to be. The longer he sniffed around and tried to find the body, the more Cynthia's insides began to rip apart in guilt. It didn't feel right to let him keep doing that.

"Guano Lisa didn't make it, Golbat. I'm sorry."

Golbat's eyes weren't very large compared to the rest of his body, but they pooled up with tears. The bat's massive mouth had been all smiles just seconds ago, but that grin transformed into a sad, grief-stricken hole. "Baaaat?" He pointed at the dresser again. All that remained of Guano Lisa was a tiny red stain. All Cynthia could do was shake her head. "Bat…ba-bat…"

Cynthia was trying her best not to cry, but it was hard. She held out her arms, offering to give Golbat some affection if he wanted it, but he didn't seem interested in anything a human could give him. For a while, all he did was continue to look at the stain in somber defeat. His whole body slouched.

"I really am sorry. The nurse said there wasn't anything she could do. But…" She had no idea how much consolation this was going to be for Golbat, but it was better than nothing. "But nobody can hurt her anymore. That's what matters most, right?"

Cynthia reached for another berry, but stopped when something tapped against her leg. When she looked down, she noticed Spiritomb's stone rubbing affectionately against her ankle. Its gaseous face looked up at her, green eyes twinkling.

' ** _We can talk to him._** '

"You want to?" Spiritomb had never been cruel to the other Pokémon, but Cynthia couldn't shake the feeling that this might be some sort of mean-spirited prank at Golbat's expense. She wouldn't put it past Spiritomb. It wasn't a friendly creature.

' ** _Girl…allow me to explain._** **_Pokémon can love just as deeply as humans, sometimes in even deeper capacities. Golbat thought of that Zubat as his mate. Losing something precious…we understand how that feels. We will talk._** '

"You're not gonna hurt him, are you?" When Spiritomb shook its head to indicate this offer was sincere, Cynthia cautiously bent down to pick it up.

Back in Plumbum City, she'd quickly learned that Spiritomb hated sudden motions. If she caught it off guard, it would make all kinds of terrible sounds until she calmed it down. Since she took her time to properly pick it up, all Spiritomb did was create a thin vaporous smile in its ghostly cloud.

"This is uncharacteristically generous of you, but thank you." To show her appreciation, she stroked the stone. Spiritomb sounded happy, but its noises made every hair on Cynthia's arms stand up. "Hey, Golbat? Spiritomb wants to talk to you. Is that okay?" Golbat waddled over toward the bed, head still hung low. As he came closer, Cynthia could feel Spiritomb poking its stone into her chest. "What is it?" she whispered.

' ** _Be a dear and position us at the window. It has a better view._** '

' _Oh…right…_ ' Earlier, Spiritomb had a grand time watching the ambulances rush to and from the hospital. Cynthia didn't understand the appeal—nor did she want to—but she humored her Pokémon and put it back where it wished to be. Spiritomb's little smile turned into a big, ghastly grin. It was equal parts adorable and creepy.

Carrying Spiritomb wasn't too difficult—save for the fact Cyrus's Eevee kept attempting to do a figure 8 around Cynthia's legs. "Hey! Stop!" Eevee wriggled around like an Eelectrik with fur, insistently rubbing his cheeks on the girl's black boots. When he finally left her alone, her legs were completely covered in brown hair. "Gah!"

At least her Eevee appeared to be preoccupied with grooming himself. He wasn't exactly the world's most affectionate Pokémon, but Cynthia had to applaud him for being a fastidious groomer. His fur was always perfect. Even if she stroked his fur with a damp hand, she never found any stray hairs. He somehow managed to get them all.

The only problem was she couldn't take him seriously when he groomed himself. Her Eevee's muscular haunches were splayed apart as he licked and made the most undignified, ridiculous noises imaginable: _mweh mweh mweh mwehp_.

After dealing with Golbat, Cynthia needed a good laugh…and her Eevee provided it. She sucked in a chuckle, but it came through her nose as a snort. Eevee lifted his head, tongue still out, and gave her a disgusted look. Sure, _he_ could make dumb noises to his heart's content; but how dare his trainer do the same?

"Sorry! I'm gonna bathe, too. Enjoy your me time, Eevee. I know I will."

Ever since Zed pointed out the room included a private bath, Cynthia could barely contain her excitement. Her room in the Plumbum City Lodge had a private bathroom, but all that meant was the toilet had a faucet over it. The damn thing barely had enough water pressure to constitute as a shower. As a result, neither she nor Cyrus ever took longer than five minutes in there: just long enough to shampoo, scrub, and feel clean.

Today had been a mess from start to finish. She felt both physically and emotionally drained. Being able to come back to a quiet room and soak her tired muscles in a tub for half an hour sounded like a dream. Back at home; this was the sort of day where she'd steal some of her grandmother's bath oils, grab a good book, and soak in the tub until the water turned cold or somebody knocked on the door. Cynthia doubted anyone sold luxury bath products in Kinzo, but that was alright. Just hot water would do.

She shut the door, took off what felt like three layers of clothing, and twisted the faucet so the water could start warming up. From the other side, one of the Eevees scratched at the door. Considering how frantic the whines sounded, she was pretty sure that wasn't her Eevee. He only made noises like that when he wanted food or somebody made a mess on the floor.

"Ssssssh. I'll be out in a bit."

But the whimpers continued. A furry paw found enough space beneath the door to slide inside, fumbling around desperately in an attempt to get in. When the Eevee's arm got stuck, he began to cry. Cynthia rolled her eyes, squatted toward the door, and began to gently maneuver the Pokémon's leg out of the doorway. As soon as the Eevee was free, another paw popped through and poked at her, demanding attention.

"No. No, sir! You're not—hey! Let go!"

But he didn't. As fun as it was to squish the pink beans on the bottom of Eevee's foot, his razor-sharp claws were significantly less cute. His toes flexed until the claws came out, and then he latched onto Cynthia's hand. "Veeeeeeee!"

"OW! Stoooooop!" Cynthia groaned, trying to free her hand. "You're the clingiest Pokémon I've ever met—and no! That's not a compliment!" How Cyrus kept this thing happy, she had no idea! "If you don't let go _right now_ , you're going back in your ball!"

At least Eevee seemed to understand that. His paw retracted to the other side of the door and he sulkily pattered away…only to take his frustration out on Cynthia's Eevee. She heard the high-pitched growl, followed by the hissing and spitting that typically followed the abuse. Her Eevee was larger and more muscular than Cyrus's, but he was too much of a powder puff to stand up for himself.

All he ever did was scream. Today was no different.

Cynthia gave the door a loud thump, hoping the Eevees would scurry to opposite sides of the room and leave each other alone. For a few seconds, it worked. As soon as the ruckus started up again, she gave up and decided she'd sort it out later. For now, she'd simply turn on the fan and tune it out. She just wished she had a transistor radio so she could listen to music as she soaked. The tub was almost full now! There was just one problem.

' _What the—it's still room temperature! Doesn't it get any hotter?!_ '

…

There wasn't much point in taking a bath if all she could do was soak in lukewarm water. In the end, Cynthia ended up bypassing the bath for a quick shower and tied her hair into a towel turban. Maybe tomorrow, she'd tell Zed that the heat was off…unless he already knew. Maybe it was just so cold outside that the pipes couldn't properly heat up.

The private room came with a small television, ten free channels, and a VCR. According to a small sign next to the TV set, an International Box could be set up for an additional cost. The Kalium Lodge offered Lumiose, Castelia, Jubilife, Motostoke, and Liedburg packages; as well as a national booster for more Kinzonian channels. That sounded nice, but Cynthia couldn't justify the expense.

She'd rather waste an evening with a good book. The only problem was she'd read every book in her bag at least eleven times. If she wanted something new, she'd have to check out the Kalium City Library…tomorrow. The fact it was dark outside meant it was well past the national curfew, much to her annoyance.

' _I should probably visit Cyrus first, just in case he wants me to pick something up. I'm sure he could use a good distraction right about now._ '

The last time they talked, Cyrus didn't exactly hide his fear of hospitals. An outpatient procedure would have been scary enough, but he'd be in there for a few days. Cynthia wished she could camp out in the room with him, but that was against hospital protocol. All she could realistically do was look after his Pokémon, visit for a couple of hours, and bring him a few small comforts so his stay would be a little less horrid.

The Kalium Lodge had a small library in the common area; but it was mostly comic books, light novels, old magazines, and what Cynthia strongly suspected was some type of Kinzonian propaganda Zed was required to make available for curious tourists. None of it appealed to her, and she doubted Cyrus would like it either.

As tempting as it was to flop on the bed and call it an early night, she at least wanted to stay up until 9:30. She'd told Cyrus that if he felt lonely and wanted to talk on the phone, she'd stay up all night. All he had to do was call. Sure, she doubted he'd actually do it—but she made the offer! It would kind of be a dick move to pass out so soon.

' _I guess I could watch some TV. Here's hoping the free channels aren't all in Kinzonian._ '

"Pssssst." All four of the Pokémon stopped what they were doing to look at her. She patted her lap, making it clear that everyone had an open invitation to get on the bed and cuddle.

Spiritomb didn't even budge, nor did her Eevee. Golbat draped a wing across Spiritomb's stone, making it clear he'd rather spend time with his new best friend than a human. At least Cyrus's Eevee seemed interested. He enthusiastically scampered toward Cynthia, climbed into her lap, and curled into a comfortable ball.

"It's your loss, guys. There's plenty of room for all four of you."

Golbat dismissively swished a wing at her and stomped toward the window. He nudged Spiritomb, trying to get it to move over so he could look outside the window, too. She could hear the two Pokémon whispering to each other, not that any of it made any sense to her.

Cynthia grabbed the remote and turned on the TV set. A faint, high-pitched noise came from the left speaker. It didn't bother her, but she noticed Eevee's left ear twitched until the screen came into full focus and the sound went away.

She wasn't expecting much: maybe just a couple of local news channels, a shopping network, and a travel channel. The first channel appeared to be a TV Guide, showing what was available on the other nine stations. Fortunately, everything was written in the international language…albeit a bit broken and clunky in a few places.

The only remotely interesting option on the list was Channel 4: the Kinzonian Heritage Channel. She didn't have high hopes, but it was better than nothing.

 **...was one of the world's first superpowers. In its heyday, almost one quarter of the world's population bowed before its flag. Although it was only an empire for a hundred and fifty years, it was a confederation for nearly eight centuries.**

 **Echoes of this great civilization still linger with us today: the 365-day calendar, highways, newspapers, the lottery, concrete, sewers, and plumbing all had their start in Argenti. Many historians call it "the Immortal Nation" not because of the longevity of its citizens, but because the empire was destroyed and rebuilt a total of three times in Kinzo alone.**

 **No one knows the exact date the confederation was founded. It happened so long ago that it's impossible to tell where mythology ends and history begins. What we do know is that current-day Kinzo used to be broken into small city-states, each of which had its own king and private army…**

The edges of Cynthia's mouth curled up in delight. ' _It's a free history channel! Tonight isn't going to suck after all!_ ' It was just a bunch of still images of mosaics and old statues rather than any dramatizations with live actors; but it was still cool!

Most people would rather watch paint dry than listen to stuffy old professors discuss ancient civilizations, but Cynthia lived and breathed for archaeology—and she knew so little about Kinzo's history! This would be a real treat! If she ended up learning something particularly interesting, maybe she could look for additional books on the subject at the library tomorrow.

"Spiritomb! Yoo hoo!" She tried to get her Pokémon's attention one last time. "Ædranos was part of the Argenti Empire, right? This documentary's about your people! Are you sure you don't want to watch it with me?"

The Pokémon made a noise uncomfortably reminiscent of a human sigh, but didn't come any closer. Whatever was outside the window had its undivided attention.

"Vee!" Cyrus's Eevee cooed, trying to nudge Cynthia into scratching behind his ears. She quickly picked up the hint and gave him what he wanted, amused to see one of his back feet kick excitedly.

 **4000 years ago, Marius the Younger reported that he had visited a grand total of 150 city-states. A thousand years later, that number had dropped to 33 with Argentia and Auria, the westernmost city-states, as the largest and most prosperous.**

 **The King of Argentia, Rurik the Wrathful, wasn't born a prince. He started life as a slave inside a low-ranking military household. From a young age, Rurik was fascinated by Pokémon and begged his master to teach him how to battle. Humored by the boy's enthusiasm, the soldier conceded. He had no idea what Rurik would become.**

Sinnoh had a royal family, but they didn't rule the country anymore. They dressed in designer clothes, held parties at their lavish estates, and made plenty of public appearances; but they were figureheads only. Not that long ago, they announced the birth of a baby princess. The royal family tried to hide Princess Salvia's face from the paparazzi, which led to rumors that she was deformed. When someone finally leaked a photo, the baby looked perfectly normal. They probably just wanted to protect her from the spotlight. Poor kid.

Kalos used to have a royal family, too. They hadn't ruled for a couple of centuries, but the last king's descendants still held a great amount of influence and control over the country. Some had served in Parliament. Others opened a multitude of successful businesses, including a coffee chain and a clothing line. One of them had even been a League Champion. Cynthia didn't know as much about that region, but a Kalos adventure was certainly on her to-do list.

Modern Kinzo was a predominantly communist nation with no noble or royal families. All people were supposed to be equals here. It amazed her to see that even as far back as the ancient days, this was a place where a slave could become a king. It didn't surprise her that he carried a moniker like "the Wrathful," though. This probably wasn't going to be a happy story.

 **By 15, he earned enough to buy his freedom and joined the military. By 25, he earned a general's rank and the adoration of all Argentia. He was lauded as a conqueror, a protector, an enforcer, and a hero of the common people. But it wasn't enough for Rurik to be praised by the elite. He wished to** ** _become_** **the elite.**

Cynthia had a sneaking suspicion she knew where this was going. This channel was subsidized by the Kinzonian government. She expected the documentary to devolve into a diatribe about the corrupting power of wealth and how Rurik should have been a hero to all people rather than just himself.

It didn't happen. The narrator's low, soothing voice was like silk: smooth and soft. A voice like that could lull people to sleep when they were worn out, no matter how fascinating the material. As he recounted the minutia of how Rurik acquired additional power in the neighboring city-state, Cynthia could feel her eyelids growing heavy.

The only thing that kept her from completely nodding off was Cyrus's Eevee. If she stopped petting him, the Pokémon would lightly bump the top of his head against her jaw and squeak a quick "vee" at her. "You better not do this all night," she mumbled, trying to hold off an impending yawn.

 **Within fifty years, Rurik and his nine sons conquered and enslaved eleven neighboring territories: including most of eastern Kalos. Terrified of their eastern overlords, the ancient Kalosians decided to fight back and sent their Pokémon to the front lines. Every chieftain, noble, merchant, and serf was expected to comply. If anyone had a Pokémon, it was time for it to fight for Kalos.**

 **One of those men sent his beloved Floette. When her remains came home in a box, he changed the course of western history.**

 **Nearly 3000 years have passed, but the entire continent still knows this story. In it, Rurik the Wrathful is merely a footnote: a catalyst for one of the greatest atrocities ever committed in the history of humanity. We don't remember the war because of Rurik. We remember it because of AZ and the Ultimate Weapon.**

Back in Celestic Town, every wall in Cynthia's bedroom was covered in bookcases. Each shelf was devoted to the history, mythos, and legends of a different region. In her Kalos section, the story of the Ultimate Weapon appeared in almost every book. Future Kalosian kings traced their ancestry back to AZ's younger brother, who supposedly buried the weapon because he didn't want future generations to use it.

She'd only heard the Kalosian version of the tale: a man lost his beloved Pokémon and became obsessed with resurrecting her. He stole the lives of other Pokémon just to bring her back. After he succeeded, he repurposed the device into a weapon and ended the war by killing both sides. In that moment, the resurrected Pokémon saw no further goodness in her human companion and left him forever.

Kalos and Kinzo shared a continent. It would make sense that the two countries would have a far from perfect past with one another, but it was a little surprising to learn that this story—which honestly sounded more like a myth—had its roots in reality after all. That wasn't a comforting thought.

Rurik the Wrathful had overstepped his bounds. His rampage broke the heart of the deadliest man in human history. As a result; he, his entire army, and most of his innocent population died in the blast. The war ended, but Cynthia could only imagine what those ancient people thought. They must have seen the blast as something divine: an act from an angry god, perhaps.

 **Kalos now had a weapon powerful enough to destroy entire armies with just the push of a button. It didn't matter that the king who made it recused himself and left the throne to his brother. The new king still had it.**

 **With the threat of Kalos to his west and nothing but enemies to his east, Rurik's heir agreed to the truce. Centuries of internal fighting came to an end. By the time the boy turned twenty, the city-states were well on their way to forming the Argenti Confederation. The truce became a permanent alliance and then a central government comprised of voluntary provinces.**

 **The kings became Argenti's first Senate. Their families became the new noble class. The focus changed from hoarding royal wealth to finding ways to improve the lives of their shared common people. With the birth of the Confederation came a time of trade, growth, invention, travel, and —**

Cynthia pushed the button to shut off the TV and gently placed Cyrus's Eevee on the floor. "I'm sorry, little guy. I just can't keep my eyes open." The Eevee's ears drooped in disappointment. "Come on. Don't make that face."

But the Eevee knew what he was doing. He began to whimper and stared longingly at Cynthia with big sad eyes. One paw reached for the edge of the bed, just to see if the girl would tell him to stay on the floor. She didn't. Instead, she patted the thin mattress in resignation.

"If you behave, you can stay out," she grumbled. "Can you do that?" The Eevee made an excited noise and scampered into the bed, eager to make himself comfortable around Cynthia's belly. "I'm not gonna pet you, though. I'm going to sleep."

Cyrus never called. Considering it was already well past 11 at night, Cynthia doubted he ever would. ' _We'll catch up tomorrow,_ ' she decided. ' _I just hope you're okay in there. I'm worried about you._ '


	30. (SUPPLEMENTAL)Kinzonian Heritage Channel

**Author's Note: You probably noticed that I posted two chapters in this release instead of one. That wasn't a mistake. It's because this is your first supplemental bonus chapter! In here, you will find the uncut, complete documentary that Cynthia watched—including the parts she missed. I decided to do this for a few reasons:**

 **1- While Cynthia and I both are massive history nerds, I have no idea if the same holds true for all of my readers. I chose to pepper only parts of the documentary in the last chapter so I didn't take away from the key focus: the Eevees. This way, the readers who _do_ want to learn more about Kinzonian history can read this chapter in its entirety and those who don't can skip it.**

 **2- This won't be the only time Cynthia watches a Kinzonian Heritage Channel documentary. Separating the full documentaries into their own chapters means that by the end of _Pokémon Hammer & Sickle_, you'll have a bonus "history textbook" to look over without the plot slowing down to a grinding halt.**

 **3- _Pokémon Hammer & Sickle _can be enjoyed without reading the supplemental chapters. However, I encourage my more ambitious and immersive readers to do so. I tend to throw "Easter eggs" in them: some of which might not become relevant for at least a few more towns! You'll find clues leading up to future plots, other dimensions to some of the characters, and even potential spoilers.**

 **If you ever see a double release, the second chapter will probably be supplemental in nature. They are bonus material: a little something extra I wanted to give you as a token of gratitude for being such wonderful readers. They're a fun additional game I'd like to play with you, if you choose to accept the challenge. They'll always have "(Supplemental)" in the title.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **…**

 **April 23, 1945 –After thirty agonizing years of bloodshed and grief across the western continent, the Western War of Royal Houses was finally over. Dóxa, Kalos, Galar, Kinzo, and all other surviving western regions sent a dignitary to the Lumiose Conference to discuss ways to prevent a continent-wide war from ever happening again.**

 **Each ambassador came with a gift: something that encompassed the spirit of his home country. The war hero who represented Kinzo, Lieutenant General Sergei Vasiliev, would go on to become the first Premier of the Socialist Republic of Kinzo.**

 **Vasiliev's gift to the dignitaries was a traditional Kinzonian toy: a set of wooden nesting dolls called _matryoshka_. In many ways, Kinzo's history is similar to these dolls. **

**Her outermost layer only dates back to the 1950s: when Kinzo regained its foreign-occupied lands and Tsar Valentin II was executed for being an enemy of the people. This is the era of Sergei Vasiliev, Richard Beauclair, and the modern day.**

 **The next layer, Imperial Kinzo, lasted almost 1500 years. By the end of this era, nearly two thirds of Kinzo was occupied by Kalos and Dóxa in the west and Sinnoh in the east. These final tsars were rulers in name and title only. They worked their people to the brink of exhaustion and hid behind their palace walls as their subjects were starved and slaughtered by foreign invaders.**

 **And yet these earlier tsars were creatures of glamor, glory, and triumph. They held absolute power over the land, the people, and all living things within the empire's expansive borders. This was a time of wealth, invention, exploration, and conquest…but also superstition, fear, and paranoia.**

 **And yet there is one _matryoshka_ even older than that: _Argenti_. **

**Argenti was one of the world's first superpowers. In its heyday, almost one quarter of the world's population bowed before its flag. Although it was only an empire for a hundred and fifty years, it was a confederation for nearly eight centuries.**

 **Echoes of this great civilization still linger with us today: the 365-day calendar, highways, newspapers, the lottery, concrete, sewers, and plumbing all had their start in Argenti. Many historians call it "the Immortal Nation" not because of the longevity of its citizens, but because the empire was destroyed and rebuilt a total of three times in Kinzo alone.**

 **No one knows the exact date the confederation was founded. It happened so long ago that it's impossible to tell where mythology ends and history begins. What we do know is that current-day Kinzo used to be broken into small city-states, each of which had its own king and private army.**

 **This was an era of constant assassinations, shaky alliances through marriage, and betrayal. For these ancient Kinzonians, yesterday's best friend could prove to be tomorrow's worst enemy. Some kings were so afraid of being usurped that they murdered their brothers at their coronations.**

 **One historian, Marius the Younger, stated that, " _the states hated each other with such intensity that merchants were afraid to travel without at least three changes of clothes: one for each city where they intended to sell their wares. Failure to blend in with the locals could mean the difference between earning a day's pay and losing one's head to a Bisharp._ "**

 **As the cities grew, they needed more land and resources. The easiest conquests were typically next door. 4000 years ago, Marius the Younger reported that he had visited a grand total of 150 city-states. A thousand years later, that number had dropped to 33 with Argentia and Auria, the westernmost city-states, as the largest and most prosperous.**

 **The King of Argentia, Rurik the Wrathful, wasn't born a prince. He started life as a slave inside a low-ranking military household. From a young age, Rurik was fascinated by Pokémon and begged his master to teach him how to battle. Humored by the boy's enthusiasm, the soldier conceded. He had no idea what Rurik would become.**

 **The boy cared for his master's Pokémon: grooming, feeding, bathing, and medicating them after each battle. He learned that the Pokémon performed better under certain conditions and their accuracy improved when using certain tools. All his findings, he reported back to his master…who, in turn, climbed up the ranks.**

 **In gratitude for Rurik's enthusiasm and passion, he was given a Pokémon of his own: a Golett. Rurik battled in the evenings, oftentimes for money. By 15, he earned enough to buy his freedom and joined the military. By 25, he earned a general's rank and the adoration of all Argentia. He was lauded as a conqueror, a protector, an enforcer, and a hero of the common people.**

 **But it wasn't enough for Rurik to be praised by the elite. He wished to _become_ the elite. **

**The ruling king was in failing health and had no son: just a young, unmarried daughter. After he singlehandedly conquered modern day Anistar City, Rurik asked the king for the princess's hand in marriage. The king refused. Rurik didn't take the rejection well, but word spread to the neighboring kingdom of Auria that Argentia's greatest general was unhappy at home.**

 **Their queen, Zinaida, recently lost her husband. Instead of retiring quietly and allowing her insane son to rule Auria, she wanted to remarry and maintain control of the city-state. The general and the widowed queen didn't marry for love, but for power. Rurik wanted a bigger army, and Zinaida wanted to keep a madman off the throne. Each got what they wanted and as soon as Zinaida gave Rurik an heir, her son from her first marriage was quietly disposed of.**

 **For the next five years, Rurik's conquests continued in ancient Kalos. He seized control of Mt. Molteau and Dendemille Town, but he'd long since given up on pleasing his king. After all, he was now a king himself. All his attention went to his fellow soldiers and their Pokémon.**

 **When the time finally came to return to Argentia, Rurik's army staged a military coup. By nightfall, the former freedman became Rurik the Wrathful: king of both Auria and Argentia. To the world, he seemed unstoppable. The neighboring city-states took notice and paid tribute, hoping to keep Rurik and his massive army away.**

 **Within fifty years, Rurik and his nine sons conquered and enslaved eleven neighboring territories: including most of eastern Kalos. Terrified of their eastern overlords, the ancient Kalosians decided to fight back and sent their Pokémon to the front lines. Every chieftain, noble, merchant, and serf was expected to comply. If anyone had a Pokémon, it was time for it to fight for Kalos.**

 **One of those men sent his beloved Floette. When her remains came home in a box, he changed the course of western history.**

 **Nearly 3000 years have passed, but the entire continent still knows this story. In it, Rurik the Wrathful is merely a footnote: a catalyst for one of the greatest atrocities ever committed in the history of humanity. We don't remember the war because of Rurik. We remember it because of AZ and the Ultimate Weapon.**

 **Initially, the machine was built to bring the Floette back to life. It worked, but her trainer still wasn't satisfied. In his heart, AZ was every bit as wrathful as the man who tore his homeland apart.**

 **For half a century, Rurik's army ravaged Kalos. Men were killed. Able-bodied women and children were sent off to be sold to the highest bidder. Palaces and places of worship were looted and destroyed. Pokémon were stolen from their human companions and forced to fight on the enemy's side.**

 **For that reason, this embittered man turned his device into the Ultimate Weapon and promised to end the war. The Kalosian people rallied behind him, named him their new king, and begged him to free them from Rurik's reign of terror.**

 **The weapon was a game-changer. With the push of a button, King AZ sent a destructive blast large enough to decimate a small country. The entire known world watched in horror as the sky changed to an unnatural color. Within less than a minute, the blast made impact and destroyed both sides. In an instant, the war was over.**

 **Rurik and his entire army were among the dead. So were many innocent people and Pokémon. Historians state that AZ's younger brother was so horrified by what he witnessed that his first action as king involved burying the machine so it would never be used again.**

 **The eastern city-states did not know that. To them, Rurik the Wrathful was a living legend: a god on earth. Paying tribute to Rurik had ensured all his conquests were directed westward. Rurik's empire created a buffer between Kalos and the other city-states. With the warrior king dead, the barrier was gone. No one even knew if his kingdom would survive.**

 **The eastern kings reached out to Rurik's last surviving heir: a terrified ten-year-old boy who had no idea how to rule. The kings proposed a temporary truce among the city-states, which would in turn become an alliance. Their armies could join together, protect the common people, and do whatever possible to make sure Kalos never marched east.**

 **The war was over, but the kings feared another one could start at any time. Kalos now had a weapon powerful enough to destroy entire armies with just the push of a button. It didn't matter that the king who made it recused himself and left the throne to his brother. The new king still had it.**

 **With the threat of Kalos to his west and nothing but enemies to his east, Rurik's heir agreed to the truce. Centuries of internal fighting came to an end. By the time the boy turned twenty, the city-states were well on their way to forming the Argenti Confederation. The truce became a permanent alliance and then a central government comprised of voluntary provinces.**

 **The kings became Argenti's first Senate. Their families became the new noble class. The focus changed from hoarding royal wealth to finding ways to improve the lives of their shared common people. With the birth of the Confederation came a time of trade, growth, invention, travel, and enlightenment.**

 **It was a glorious age: one that I hope you will tune in tomorrow to learn more about. We will explore the early days of the Argenti Confederation. You'll meet the first senators and learn which policies were most important to them. You'll see the legacy they left behind, including a few disgruntled heirs who wanted to be princes rather than senators. And lastly, I will introduce you to the man who quashed the so-called "Age of Regression" and pushed reform forward.**

 **This is George Beauclair, Ferrum Town Gym Leader and history enthusiast, signing off. Good night, and may Mother Kinzo welcome you with open arms.**


	31. A Little Help from a New Friend

Around 2:00 AM, Cynthia's Eevee decided the floor was too cold for his delicate feet. Although he tried to be discrete and not wake up his trainer, he was a big and hefty boy. When his paws made contact with the bed, it creaked and sagged around Cynthia's ankles.

"Hn…?" Cynthia slowly opened one eye and stayed perfectly still. She wanted to know which Pokémon hopped on the bed, but she wanted to go back to sleep even more. If she moved around too much, there was a chance she'd accidentally wake up Cyrus's Eevee. By now, she knew that creature well enough to know that once he was up, he'd stay up.

She could see her Eevee curling himself into a tight, compact loaf by her feet. All four of his legs were neatly tucked beneath his thick, muscular body. Once he was comfortable, he leaned his head onto Cynthia's leg and let loose a soft, contented sigh.

Cynthia couldn't help but smile. This was the most affectionate he'd been this entire trip. "Hey, Eevee," she whispered, tempted to reach over and pet the Pokémon. When she tried, all her Eevee did was burrow his head so deep into the blankets that she couldn't reach him without getting up. ' _Aaaaaah. You're playing hard to get. I see how it is._ '

"Vee?" Oh no. That didn't come from her Eevee.

Since Cyrus wasn't available, his Eevee wanted to sleep in the bed with Cynthia. All night, she'd cradled that needy little fluffball just like she would a baby. It took forever to get him to go to sleep; and now he was wriggling around and nestling his face deep into her chest. "Sssssssh. Go back to sleep."

It was a simple request, but Eevee didn't oblige. Now that he was wide awake, the only needs he cared about were his own. Cynthia felt the little pink beans from Eevee's paw gently press against her cheek. "Vee."

"We're not doing this, Eevee. I'm too tired."

But he wasn't just poking her. He was _petting_ her. The next time Eevee's warm foot stroked her face, Cynthia felt the tips of his claws. Sure, he was gentle this time; but those same claws dug into her hand just a few hours ago. He could do a lot of damage for such a little Pokémon! Pat pat. "Vee?"

"Sssssssh…" She pulled the sheets over him, hoping that would be enough for Cyrus's Eevee to understand it was way too early in the morning for this sort of nonsense.

It didn't work. Eevee popped his annoyingly adorable head out from under the covers. He thought Cynthia wanted to play peekaboo. "Vee vee!" He loved that game, so he wagged his tail and affectionately licked Cynthia's hand.

' _I can't keep doing this! If I give him what he wants, we'll be doing this all night!_ '

"Tomorrow," Cynthia yawned. "I'll play _tomorrow_ , okay? Let me sleep. _Please_." Despite how desperate the girl sounded, Eevee refused. He pressed both of his front paws on Cynthia's breasts and pushed down until it hurt. "HEY!"

From the far corner of the bed, Cynthia's Eevee raised both his ears. He peeked up just long enough to glare at his trainer and then wedged his face deeper into the blankets. She heard him growl, not that she blamed him. By now, she was wide awake and on the verge of frustrated, sleep-deprived tears. Even if Cyrus's Eevee magically decided to go back to sleep, it was too late for her to do the same. She could try, but it was pointless.

The Eevee continued pawing at her chest until one of his claws caught on a button. He began to squirm in panic, trying to free his foot. Cynthia's entire chest, stomach, and collarbone ended up getting scratched. It hurt so bad that she nearly screamed. When Eevee finally freed his paw, he took the button with it.

Those pajamas were almost brand new.

"That does it!" she snapped, hoisting Cyrus's Eevee off her bed. She got up, tried her best not to disturb her own Eevee, and plopped the misbehaving Pokémon on the floor. "I'm gonna tell Cyrus how bad you've been and—hey! NO! I just put you down! Get off my bed!"

She didn't know why she thought the Eevee would listen. He obviously wasn't going to. As the Pokémon rolled around and claimed Cynthia's pillow as his own; the girl simply gave up and skulked into the bathroom.

That seemed to catch Eevee's attention. As soon as he realized his captive human wasn't going to plead with him, pet him, or pick him up; he chased after her and tried to get inside the bathroom, too. Cynthia walked faster, watching as Eevee's cautious steps turned into a playful scamper.

At the last possible second, she shut the door and locked it. Almost immediately, Eevee tried to claw his way inside. Cynthia groaned and rolled her eyes. "You aren't very smart, are you? Didn't you learn anything from last time? Your arm's gonna get—"

"VEE!"

"…stuck."

There was no turning back now. All she could do was splash some cold water on her face, freshen up, and try to find something to keep herself busy until daybreak. She almost wished she could call Professor Myrtle and ask for—

' _Wait! That's it!_ '

It was way too early to call Natrium Town, but it was already 7:00 AM in Sandgem Town! Professor Rowan would be awake by now. Maybe he'd be able to help her with her Eevee problem!

Professor Rowan had been a family friend long before Cynthia went on her first Pokémon journey. A long time ago, he and her grandmother both taught at Canalave University, albeit in different departments. When Rowan mentioned he was looking for a young Pokémon trainer to help him with the test run of the Sinnoh Pokédex, Carolina immediately volunteered her granddaughter. She'd driven Cynthia over to Sandgem Town personally!

Even after Cynthia ventured off to explore Unova with her parents, she and Professor Rowan kept in touch. He wasn't just her grandmother's friend anymore. He was her friend, too; and they chatted enough for Cynthia to have the lab's phone number memorized.

When she finally left the bathroom, Cynthia headed directly for the videophone and dialed the number. As she heard the dial-tone, she could feel herself becoming increasingly awake. There was nothing quite like the prospect of calling a friend to reenergize her. The old professor would probably want to know how her Kinzo journey was going and if she'd seen anything interesting. She had, of course. Why, Spiritomb alone was—

"Hello?"

Instead of Professor Rowan, Cynthia found herself face to face with a gray-eyed, curly-haired younger man. He was probably a new aide or Assistant Professor. If she'd known Rowan had such a handsome assistant, Cynthia would have called ages ago! "This is the Sandgem Town Pokémon Laboratory, Augustine Sycamore speaking. May I ask who's calling?"

"Hi. Um…" Cynthia's face felt a bit hot, especially in her cheeks. "Is Professor Rowan available? My name's Cynthia. I'm a friend of his."

The man's expression remained friendly, albeit a bit apologetic. "I'm afraid you just missed him. Professor Rowan is visiting a friend in Eterna City for a few days, but maybe I can help!"

"Are you his new assistant?" Cynthia asked. "Sorry. I've known Professor Rowan for years, but I don't recognize you. You're not a familiar face."

Sycamore chuckled, his own cheeks turning rosy. "I still look young enough to be mistaken for an aide, huh? I'm flattered, but no! I'm actually the Kalos region's new Pokémon professor! Professor Rowan was my college mentor. He even helped me with my dissertation on mega evolution! I consider him to be one of my closest, dearest friends!"

This was finally starting to sound familiar. Sycamore's name didn't ring any bells, but Cynthia vaguely remembered Professor Rowan mentioning that one of his former students recently became a regional Pokémon professor. He had been very proud. "I feel the same way about Professor Rowan. I helped him fill out a Pokédex five years ago."

"Oooooh! You must be Professor Carolina's granddaughter, then. I've heard so much about you! It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Cynthia!" Professor Sycamore briefly disappeared out of Cynthia's line of sight, but came back with a chair. He clearly seemed to believe this would be a long phone call. "Professor Rowan told me that you're helping another regional professor. Where are you calling me from?"

"Kalium City, Kinzo. That isn't too far away from Kalos, is it?"

"Uh…" Sycamore chucked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yes and no. There's only one country between us, but I don't think you realize just how big Kinzo actually is. There's a four hour time zone difference between Lumiose City and Aurum City. But if you're in Kinzo, that must mean you're helping…hold on…Professor _Myrtle_ , right?"

"Yes, sir. That's correct!" As tired as she was, talking to Professor Sycamore felt like a shot of espresso. With each bit of the conversation, Cynthia could feel herself becoming a little more awake. "Have you met her, Professor Sycamore?"

For a brief moment, Sycamore's charming smile flickered into something else. Either Cynthia's tired eyes were playing tricks on her or he momentarily winced. "We've…um…we've met at a few conferences. She's… _interesting_."

Cynthia wasn't exactly a Professor Myrtle fan, either; but Sycamore's reaction surprised her. He seemed like a nice man, but it made Cynthia nervous when nice people suddenly clammed up and turned quiet. Something was up, but she couldn't figure out what it was. "Is something wrong?"

"It's nothing, really." Sycamore waved one hand dismissively. "Myrtle is a brilliant ethologist, but she's garnered a bit of a reputation in the academic community."

This was Cynthia's first time hearing this! All she knew was that, like Rowan, Myrtle once lectured at Canalave University. Cynthia knew her specialization (Pokémon behavior and migration), where she was originally from (Goldenrod City, Johto), and that her tenure in Kinzo started in 1965.

"Care to share with the class, Professor?"

Sycamore's cheeks changed from rosy pink to beet red. He cleared his throat, obviously wondering just how much he should share with a teenage girl—especially one who reported back to the source of the gossip. "For starters, she drinks like a Goldeen."

"Sir, she drinks like a dehydrated _Spheal_." Cynthia wasn't going to mince words. Even when Myrtle first introduced herself in Natrium Town, her spectrum of sobriety only ever seemed to shift from tipsy to hungover. "But I didn't call to talk about my new boss's drinking problem. You said you could help me?"

That winning smile came back in record time. "I can't make any promises, but I'll certainly try! What's up?"

"My friend is in the hospital, so I'm taking care of his Pokémon until he's discharged. I think his Eevee is freaking out." As if on cue, Cyrus's Eevee let loose a long, loud, pathetic whine. "Cyrus lets him sleep in the bed, so I haven't put him back in his ball. He's driving me crazy, though! I don't know what else to do!"

As she explained the situation to Sycamore, he nodded his head along in understanding. "Oh dear. Is it just the noise?"

"No. There's more." Cynthia didn't want to tell this gorgeous man that her friend's Eevee clawed up her boobs, but—to her horror and embarrassment—one of them had bled through her pajamas. Once she realized that, she held the Eevee up to cover her chest. "If I stop petting him, he bumps my hand. When I went to use the bathroom, he clawed at the door and got stuck. _Twice_. He whines, cries, bites, scratches, and is being a royal pain."

"Have you played with him?"

"Professor, it's two in the morning! I just want him to sleep so _I_ can sleep!"

Cynthia's Eevee glared from the bed. By this point, even Golbat and Spiritomb were giving her impatient looks. All three of them wanted the shenanigans to stop, too. But Cyrus's Eevee got what he wanted: he was in human hands again! The Pokémon cooed with glee, flopped in Cynthia's arms, and gave her cheek an affectionate lick.

Sycamore tried to stifle a laugh, but it came out anyway. He waved at the screen and let loose a little chuckle when the Eevee playfully waved back. The Pokémon swished his tail excitedly, being as cute and friendly as could be. "That's the problem child, huh?"

"Mmhmm."

"If you don't mind me asking, what level is he?"

"I don't know," and she felt really bad about telling him that. "But both Eevees were at Level 5 when Professor Myrtle gave them to us. That was a couple of weeks ago."

"Aaaaah, I see. Those Eevees were your Kinzo starters, weren't they?" When Cynthia nodded her head to confirm, Sycamore sighed. "I thought so. Starter Pokémon are usually very young. That way, you can have as long and happy a life with your Pokémon as possible. It also means that some of them will bond with their trainers very quickly. Separation anxiety is quite common."

Cynthia kind of figured that was why Cyrus's Eevee was so clingy. He didn't exactly baby his Pokémon, but he certainly gave that Eevee a lot of attention. It slept in the bed with him and he brushed it sometimes. It wasn't much, but Eevee worshiped the ground that boy walked on.

"I've bred, hatched, and nurtured starter Pokémon for a couple of years now. Whenever I have to leave town or I have a particularly needy baby in the batch, I'll leave one of my dirty shirts near their pet bed so they can smell me. If an anxious Pokémon can smell its favorite person nearby, it calms down. You said Eevee sleeps in bed with your friend, correct?"

"Yes, sir. And since Cyrus isn't here, Eevee's trying to sleep with me."

"Do you have any of Cyrus's dirty laundry? A sweater, perhaps?"

"I have a whole bag." She planned to hit the laundromat sometime after visiting Cyrus and the library. "What should I look for?"

"Socks are a safe bet, especially if Eevee's feeling frisky. He can chew it, kick it with his haunches, and snuggle up to it when he tires out. Put it on the other bed. If Eevee doesn't leave you alone, feel free to call me back. I know all too well how important beauty sleep can be."

Cynthia let loose a long sigh and nodded her head in exhausted, worn-out resignation. "Okay. I'll try that. Thanks, Professor Sycamore. You've been a huge help. Have a nice day."

"You too! _A teute a l'heure!_ Let's talk again soon!"


	32. Поскорее Поправляйся

Although Kalium General Hospital was only one exit away from the Trainers Lodge, Zed insisted on driving Cynthia there. "The snow's really bad this morning. Unless you know the area really well, you might get lost. You'll be fine if you have a Fire Pokémon, but I'd just feel better if I made the offer."

Cynthia didn't even argue. If the Lodge Owner wanted to help her out, she was inclined to let him do it.

Zed's car was a rust-colored boxy thing with short tires, a rectangular grill, and a roof shaped like the top of a man's fedora. It was kind of cute in a clunky, goofy-looking way. Cynthia just wished its heat and defroster worked better. Even when Zed cranked it up as high as it would go, she could still see her breath.

She tightly wound her black scarf around her neck and bundled up as tightly as she could, hoping to get warm. Inside her tote bag, she could feel two Poké Balls rolling around. It was probably the Eevees. Spiritomb and Golbat didn't seem to mind being in their balls, but the Eevees made a fuss every time she put them back.

"Is your friend going to be alright? He didn't sound so great over the phone."

"He just came out of surgery and he hates hospitals. I don't think you'd sound so great, either. This hasn't been easy for him." At least he could leave in a few more days. When the doctors gave Cyrus the all clear, Cynthia would come to get him and bring a change of clothes with her. Golbat tore his old ones into unidentifiable rags. They'd need to be replaced.

Zed went quiet after that and focused all his attention on the road. "Hey, um…Zed?" Cynthia felt a bit sheepish. "I'm sorry if I sounded a bit snippy just now. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

Professor Sycamore's suggestion worked, but not in the way Cynthia hoped. She rummaged through the dirty laundry bag until she found a particularly ripe sock. Cyrus's shoes were insulated and didn't breathe very well, so his socks tended to stink. When she tossed it on the empty bed, his Eevee rushed right to it. He chewed on the toe, kicked it with his back legs, and made a few happy sounds.

At first, Cynthia took that as a good sign. The Pokémon recognized his human's scent and found some comfort in it. Eevee seemed to be in a better mood, so she shut off the lights and tried to go back to sleep. He didn't bother her the rest of the night, but he did pee on the sock. Now she had to wash all the sheets and bedding along with the dirty clothes.

When she got up to use the bathroom, the door didn't shut all the way. Eevee seized his opportunity. He pushed his way inside and made himself comfortable between Cynthia's ankles. The first time she tried to shoo him, Eevee rubbed his cheek against her naked leg and nestled deeper into her panties and pajama bottoms. Cynthia reached down to pick him up, and the little jerk snapped at her!

She gave up on getting her pants back and left him in there. At least Eevee was distracted long enough for Cynthia to find his Poké Ball and put him away. The whole thing left her in a rotten mood. "I'm just running on fumes."

Zed seemed to take it in stride, though. "Oh, you're fine! I can tell you're worried about your friend. Once you see him, you'll probably feel better. Here." The car parked outside a frost-covered building. The ride had taken all of five minutes. "If you want to come back to the Trainers Lodge and take a nap after your visit, I can pick you up again."

"Thanks, but I think I'm gonna explore. I didn't exactly get to look around yesterday, and I'm curious to see what Kalium City's like. I'll be okay."

"Alright. If you say so! До свидания!" Zed waved goodbye, playfully beeped his car's squeaky horn a couple of times, and took off.

…

"Oooooh. You're that awful girl who screamed at me yesterday!" The hospital receptionist looked like she'd just tried to suck a Sitrus berry. "What are you doing back here? What do you want?"

"I'm just here to see my friend, okay? Give me his room number and I'll leave you alone." Cynthia typically would have been more polite, but she was too tired to give a shit. This woman was rude yesterday, anyway. "His name is Cyrus Akagi. I'm Cynthia Shirona. Do you need any other information?"

She firmly enunciated both names to make sure the receptionist spelled them properly. In a more wakeful and considerate state, she probably would have worried about coming across as sarcastic. She just wanted to get this over with so she could see Cyrus.

The nurse impatiently drummed her fingers on the desk until the computer made a quick, triumphant beep. "Alright. I see you're listed as an authorized visitor for the patient in Room 118. Go down that hall, make a left at the water fountain, and he'll be the fourth room on the right. You can visit until 10:00 AM."

"Got it. Thanks." Cynthia tightened her grip on her tote bag and began the march to Cyrus's room.

As she walked down the hall, she wondered what was going through her friend's mind when he first woke up. His father said he was scared of hospitals. Waking up with no one but a swarm of foreign doctors in the room must have been his worst nightmare.

' _If this happens again, at least I'm listed as an approved visitor._ ' Cynthia hadn't expected Mr. Akagi to offer that, but the gesture was greatly appreciated. ' _Maybe I should call home and see if we can do the same for Cyrus._ '

If anything happened to her, she knew Carolina would take the next flight to Kinzo and get there as fast as she could. She'd probably only call Cynthia's parents after she landed. Cynthia wouldn't even put it past her to call in a few favors to see if anyone had a private jet, just so she could get there faster.

' _In a bad enough emergency, Cyrus needs to be able to make a life or death decision for me. Can I trust him to do that?_ ' Maybe later, she could broach the subject and see if he agreed. At the very least, she'd add Carolina's contact information to his address book.

The fluorescent lights were so bright that she wondered if it would be a good idea to put on her sunglasses. Carolina bought her a nice polarized pair during their pre-journey shopping trip, insisting that Cynthia would need them to avoid snow blindness. These lights were just as bright, and they were giving her a headache.

The hospitals back in Sinnoh tended to post soothing artwork or cheery-looking billboards on the walls. The walls of Kalium General Hospital looked boring and bare, save for a very impressive tile mosaic across from the nurses' desks. It resembled some of the beautiful mosaics Cynthia saw in last night's documentary about Rurik the Wrathful. The man was so ancient that he only existed in art and epics.

This mosaic had a much more modern subject. The backdrop was the Kinzonian flag: a strong golden hand holding a Poké Ball against a scarlet backdrop. Rays of light came from the ball, as though it were the sun. Standing in front of it was a middle-aged man with a hooked nose, strong jawline, thick black eyebrows, and a mustache. He looked friendly as he smoked his pipe, but that highly decorated military jacket made it obvious he wasn't just some kindly generic Kinzonian model. This guy was a war hero.

 **Поскорее поправляйся! Ваше здоровье драгоценно!**

Cynthia wondered if maybe he was the former Premier: the man who founded the modern Kinzonian government. She'd seen his face on a few posters around the Trainers Lodge and Pokémon Center, but still didn't know enough Kinzonian to read what they said. She was almost tempted to ask one of the orderlies what the mosaic said, but it wasn't that important.

Besides, it wasn't like this was the one and only time she'd come here. Cyrus still had a few days before he could leave.

His room was less than twenty paces from the mosaic: an easy enough walk. Cynthia tapped on his door, just to make sure he was awake. The TV was on, but that didn't mean anything. People napped through boring programs all the time. "Hello? Cyrus?"

At first, she didn't expect anyone to answer. It was still rather early: about 9:00 AM. Cyrus typically woke up before daybreak, but she could understand if all he wanted to do was sleep off these next few days. If he slept, it meant he didn't have to—

"Cynthia? Is that you?" He didn't sound anxious this time: just tired.

Cynthia pushed the door handle and made her way into the room. "Yeah, silly. It's me. I said I'd visit, didn't I?" She entered the room and braced herself for whatever she'd see inside.

The room was painted-over cinderblock with a window that couldn't be opened. The blinds were open, just in case Cyrus wanted to look outside and see the sparse, half-dead greenery in the hospital's courtyard. A banged up window unit rattled from the bottom pane, blasting out warm air that smelled vaguely like a dirty oven. On the wall across from the bed was a blackboard with several notes written in Kinzonian and a small TV.

The news was on. A reporter announced that all Metro routes inside and around Kalium City would be shut down until further notice. The police ordered a complete lockdown on the city. Their hope was that shutting down the Metro would help them locate the Team Sigma operatives who bombed a train yesterday. Sketches of the suspects appeared on the screen, along with a list of their confirmed Pokémon.

The part of the room Cynthia was the most hesitant to look at was the bed. The last time she saw Cyrus; he was deathly pale, covered in blood, and barely conscious. Since then, the nurses had changed him into a hospital gown and set him up with an extra pillow. The bed was inclined upward so he could watch the television, but the boy could barely keep his eyes open.

His arms were almost entirely bandaged, save for a few places where he was fitted with an IV port. One needle pumped clean blood into his veins. Another fed him a steady dosage of medication—probably painkillers or some type of Golbat venom antidote. There were dark circles under his eyes, which he squinted when Cynthia came in from the glaringly bright hallway.

The only chair in the room looked like a miniature recliner with a cheap pleather covering. Cynthia tried to sit in it, but nearly lost her balance in the process. The chair's wheels were so loose that it took very little effort to make them move. Once she knew she wasn't going to fall, she pulled a plastic bag out of her tote and held up yesterday's berry cup. "I even brought breakfast."

Cyrus gave her a weak smile, but slowly shook his head. "You didn't have to do that. I'm not hungry."

"Have you eaten at all?"

Cyrus's cheekbones were very pronounced and his eyes looked a bit sunken-in, but Cynthia had always just assumed he had a harsh face. Without the bulky jacket and long-sleeved shirt to cover his body, she realized he was actually quite skinny.

The hospital gown left very little to the imagination. All of Cyrus's clothes (even his undershirts) were bulky and long-sleeved. The only parts of his body Cynthia had seen bare prior to that moment were his feet, hands, and head. Even then, those parts were quite bony. She'd chalked it up to him being a teenage boy: with some parts growing faster than others. She hadn't realized the full extent of how gaunt he was until she noticed how many of his bones she could make out in his skin. His spine, collarbone, wrists, elbows, ankles, knees…

He wasn't at the point of complete emaciation, but he was getting there. Cynthia suspected if she ever caught him shirtless, she'd be able to see most of his ribs, too. That really worried her.

"Come on…just a little?"

Cyrus was either too weak or in too much pain to roll his entire body over, but he craned his neck in Cynthia's direction. His exhausted blue eyes locked onto hers and he frowned. "They put me on amoxicillin. Everything tastes like hot garbage. I'd rather not."

"That really sucks. I'm sorry." Cynthia put the cup on the nightstand, hoping he'd snack on it later. "I hope you don't think I'm trying to nag you. I'm just worried. It's not the same having the room all to myself."

"Are you okay?"

The question caught Cynthia off guard. Cyrus was the one who nearly bled to death. Cynthia had been so focused on making sure he survived that she spent most of yesterday on autopilot. There wasn't time to think about herself or her own feelings. She only decompressed after he was squared away at the hospital and Guano Lisa's remains were given to the Pokémon Center. Physically, she was fine. Emotionally, it was all she could do to keep herself together.

"I had a bad night. That's all."

"Not because of me, I hope. I passed out around 9:00. If you stayed up, expecting me to call—"

"It wasn't that, I promise." Was it okay to scoot closer and hold his hand? It looked so cold. "I had a feeling you'd be too tired to talk. 9:00, though? You're usually such a Noctowl. I guess Golbat really did a number on you."

Cyrus flopped back into the hospital bed mattress, letting it sink all around him. He let loose a long, annoyed sigh. Cynthia could see his entire chest move. "You don't know the half of it. I knew Golbats were poisonous, but I didn't know they were _this_ poisonous. I'll have to be more careful with him in the future. Is he okay?"

Again, Cyrus ended up surprising her. Cynthia half expected him to release Golbat or at least ask her to do it. She saw how scared he was in the Battle Car. If she hadn't stepped in, Golbat could have killed him. Instead, it sounded like Cyrus wanted to work through this and give Golbat another chance. She wouldn't say it aloud, but she was secretly proud of him.

"I haven't had any trouble with him," she admitted. "When I went to pick him up at the Pokémon Center, the nurse said he was the best patient she'd had all day. He even played with my Spiritomb last night."

"I see." Cyrus took a slow, deep breath and closed his eyes. Cynthia lightly brushed the soft skin on the back of his hand. It stayed in place, neither moving away from the contact nor responding to it. His face carried an air of resignation: like he was on the verge of giving up. "I guess that just means he hates me."

"Cyrus…" She stopped stroking his hand and gave it a tender squeeze instead. Right now, he needed some sort of consolation. Finding out that one of your Pokémon hated you wasn't a good feeling. If the hospital and the pain weren't already enough for Cyrus to worry about, he'd probably mentally kicked himself for this ever since he woke up.

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm having a hard time with one of my Pokémon, too." Cyrus squinted at her, as if trying to figure out if she meant this or was just trying to placate him. "My Eevee doesn't like me very much. He hasn't attacked me, but he did leave a big nasty present at the foot of the bed this morning. And, yes, I stepped in it."

As serious and somber as her travel partner was, he was still a teenage boy. That apparently was all Cynthia needed to say to get him to smile—technically, smirk. She'd take whatever she could get.

"And _yours_ is driving me bonkers," she continued. "Look at this!" She opened up her tote bag and pulled the Eevee's ball out. It rattled around excitedly, slipped out of Cynthia's hand, and landed in Cyrus's lap. The ball rolled across his legs all the way to his navel, as if it knew where its trainer was. "He's been pining for you ever since I left the hospital. I'd let him out, but one of the orderlies said I can't do that."

"That's alright," Cyrus remarked, stroking the ball. It seemed to calm down the more he touched it. "I'm just glad you brought him. I'm sorry he's being annoying. What did he do?"

' _What_ _ **didn't**_ _he do?_ ' Cynthia kept that comment to herself, cleared her throat, and tried to hide the fact her face was turning red. "I'm not gonna repeat what he did this morning, aside from pee on your laundry." So much for Cyrus's smile. It turned into a flat line, bordering on a frown. "But don't worry about that. I'll wash everything this afternoon. He, uh…"

Oh Arceus. Where did she even begin?! There was just so much drama last night! "He got his paw stuck beneath the bathroom door. Twice." There. She'd start with that. "The first time I tried to free him, he clawed my hand up. I also never realized how persistent he can be when he wants to cuddle. If I stopped petting him, he'd wake me up for more. He wouldn't shut up, either. All night, it was _vee vee vee vee veeeeee_."

She buried her face in her hands and let loose a long, well-deserved groan. "I don't know how you keep him so calm. What do you do?"

It was faint, but she heard a small noise come from the back of Cyrus's throat and nose. It took Cynthia a moment to realize what was going on, but he was laughing. It was rather quiet and understated, but he found this funny! "Eevee's easy to please," he informed her.

"Oh! So you're an Eevee Whisperer now? Ny all means, Cyrus, enlighten me. What am I missing here?"

"Reserve a Battle Room," he told her. "Before you go to bed, look around to see if another trainer wants to fight: Isaac, Tamari, Renata—someone like that. Give my Pokémon a chance to burn off all their pent-up energy. When you're done, they'll be too tired to do anything other than sleep. Then, first thing in the morning, take them to the Pokémon Center."

Cynthia couldn't believe what she was hearing. This was probably why Cyrus's team was over-leveled and stopped listening to him! "What do your Pokémon think about that? Leaving them like that overnight…I don't know. That might be why Golbat doesn't like you…"

Cyrus said something, but Cynthia couldn't hear him. All she could hear was a very impatient nurse clear her throat and clap her hands, trying to get her to leave. "Visiting hours are over," the nurse snapped. "You can come back at 2 PM or tomorrow."

"Cyrus! Wait! One more thing!" It was going to be hard to have a long conversation with this big woman pushing her out the door, but Cynthia was going to try. "I'm gonna go to the library. Do you want anything? A mythology book, maybe?"

"Get a Kinzonian language primer. Like one of those _See Spot Run_ things."

"What?" This nurse must have been a linebacker in a past life! Cynthia could barely stand her ground with this human Miltank pushing her back into the hall! "Why?"

"I'm stuck in this bed for a few more days, right? I might as well take that time to learn something useful."

"Okay! I'll see what I can—hey! Let go of my arm!" The nurse gave a scowl worthy of a pissed off Granbull. She got the message. "Alright. I'm going. My goodness…"


	33. Café Khismatullina

**Author's Note: I've been particularly excited to share this chapter, as it will be delving into something that will become increasingly important as the story progresses: how Gym Leaders are selected in Kinzo.**

 **Other than that, the disco song that plays in the background is "Будь що буде" by Руся. I will also go ahead and say that there's an Easter Egg in that song's lyrics regarding later events in the Kalium City arc. Give it a listen on YouTube! It's very catchy!**

…

Plumbum City had been a place of history and old culture. Entire streets were covered in colorful, beautiful imperial estates. Some still had working fountains, complete with gold-plated statues of Milotics and Dewgongs. Even newer places like Sweetmetal Academy tried to give off a mock-historical vibe with elaborate wrought iron fences and cultivated winter gardens.

On days when Cyrus only wanted to train his Pokémon, Cynthia decided to take long strolls in the historic district and look around. If they weren't in such a rush to challenge the next Gym Leader and explore more of the region, she could have spent an entire month in Plumbum City alone. There was just so much to do out there and so much to learn!

The same couldn't be said for Kalium City. As soon as Cyrus felt well enough to challenge Jet, Cynthia wanted to get that battle over with and leave. The city wasn't exactly awful—Zed, Nurse Yulia, and that male nurse who calmed her down at the hospital were lovely people—but it was kind of boring. She had yet to figure out why Campanella thought this place was fun.

Kalium was a much newer city, comprised almost entirely of identical cinderblock skyscrapers. The only way to tell the buildings apart was by their billboards, murals, and graffiti. It was almost as if the city was built out of an immediate need and no concern was given to how it looked. Aesthetic was an afterthought: one that a handful of artists were only now trying to address with paint, tile, and advertisements.

Putting lipstick on a Spoink didn't make it any prettier and the same could be said about Kalium City's urban art scene. They could decorate those buildings however they wanted. They'd still be ugly and clunky-looking.

The Kalium City Library was a shorter building, but was still made out of the same slate-colored cinderblock as everything else. The left side was covered in large windows so passersby could see it boasted three entire stories of books…and videos. The entire ground floor was nothing but videos, vinyl records, and movie posters. At least it didn't take Cynthia long to find what she needed: some elementary level language primers for Cyrus and some books on the Argenti Confederation for herself.

Since she couldn't visit the hospital again until 2:00 and the books were starting to feel heavy in her arms, she decided to grab a bite to eat. It didn't have to be anything big and fancy. Just coffee and a sandwich could tide her over until dinnertime. She recognized the logos for several international chain restaurants, but finally decided on a tiny café across the street from the hospital.

Although the exterior of the café was nothing too exciting, the interior was decorated wall to wall in laminated newspapers. Old promotional posters, pin-ups, and calendar art were held up in strategic places by thick blue frames. All of them had the same model: a dark-eyed beauty with a face full of freckles and straight black hair down to her waist. In most images, she wore a white parka with baby blue faux fur trim, dark blue leggings, and white snow boots.

Cynthia had no idea who this girl was, but every framed picture of her was stuffed to the brim with fake blue flowers and folded-up handwritten notes. Some of her photographs even had lip marks where someone kissed the glass. In lipstick, someone wrote a note: **Я всегда буду любить вас**.

Kinzonian disco music played softly in the background: tinny, electronic tunes paired with a girl singing in the local language:

 ** _Будь що буде  
Ти оглядаєшся неохоче  
Будь що буде  
І я дивлюсь тобі прямо в очі.  
Будь що буде  
Нехай звертають увагу люди.  
Кладу я руки тобі на груди  
І тихо шепчу -  
"будь що буде"._**

The café's patrons sat in white plastic scoop chairs, chatting over what looked like thin pancakes stuffed with everything from fruit to cheese to—

"Здравствуйте! Welcome to Café Khismatullina!" A plump, friendly-looking woman smiled invitingly at Cynthia from the sparkling white counter. Not only was she dressed in a similar fashion to the girl in the pictures, but she even wore her hair the same way: straight as a board and parted down the middle. "My name is Natalia. What can I make for you today?"

"Coffee," Cynthia insisted without any hesitation. "I want the biggest, blackest, boldest thing you have."

"Ah ha haaa!" Natalia seemed to find that funny, but at least her laugh seemed good-spirited. She chuckled as he put in the order. "You're easy to please. I like that! Our house brew is so strong that it can wake up a hibernating Snorlax! I don't recommend drinking it on an empty stomach, though. It will do things to your stomach. How about something to eat first?"

"Sure, but, um…" Cynthia could feel her face turning a little hot from embarrassment. "I don't recognize most of the stuff on your menu." She didn't want to tell this woman she was from Sinnoh, but Kalium City seemed a bit more foreigner-friendly than the last place. Somebody opened up an Alolan restaurant, for Arceus's sake! "What do you like?"

"Have you ever eaten blini before? They're thin Kinzonian pancakes and can be paired with almost anything. I have a sweet tooth, so I usually order them with Pomeg or Belue varenye."

"Varenye?"

"It's…how you say… _jam_? Sort of like jam, but with whole fruit."

Ah. She meant preserves. Cynthia liked preserves! "That sounds perfect! Can I have one of those, please—with Pecha varenye, if you have it?" The girl's stomach growled in eager anticipation. She loved fruity desserts and breakfast foods. For all she knew, this could end up being a new favorite!

Natalia insisted that she'd bring the coffee and blini to Cynthia's table once it was ready, so at least she had a chance to scope out the café for an unoccupied seat. There were a few booths with a window view, but Cynthia was more intrigued by the newspapers on the walls. She expected them to be written in the local language, but they were published in the international language. Finally: something she could read!

Everything seemed to come from the same source: a local newspaper called the Kalium City Mirror. Most of the articles were nothing but advertisements for local businesses, but an occasional news story made its way through. Cynthia had initially thought about reading her library book, but everyone in the first Argenti Senate died three civilizations ago. They could wait. These articles could help her paint a more detailed picture of Kalium City!

Upon closer inspection, the same name kept coming up: _Emiliya_ _Khismatullina_. Considering every photo in the entire café was of the same beautiful girl, it didn't take a genius to realize that was Emiliya. Cynthia just wasn't sure why an entire café decided to use her as a theme. Was she the owner, perhaps? Or maybe a local celebrity like Jet Melkadze?

When Natalia came by with the blini and coffee, she sat down across from Cynthia. "May I take my coffee break with you? If you'd rather be left alone, I can go outside and smoke."

"You can sit with me. I don't mind." Cynthia just hoped Natalia didn't smoke inside the building. One of the first things she'd noticed about the last town's restaurants was that they didn't separate the smokers from the non-smokers. The café had ashtrays at each table, but (thankfully) Natalia never pulled out a cigarette.

"Ah. Thank you!" The waitress made herself comfortable with her big black mug of coffee and leaned back in her chair. "I love foreigners. We don't get a lot of them in the café, but we don't get a lot of people in general. It's just the same few regulars who want to come in for breakfast a few times each week."

Cynthia placed her hands on the edges of her mug, using its heat to thaw out her fingers. They had started to feel like blocks of ice outside, and her mittens could only keep them so warm. "I have a hard time believing that. This blini is probably the most delicious thing I've eaten all month—and you weren't kidding about this coffee! I'll have to come back and order it again!"

Once she was back at the Trainers Lodge, she planned to ask Zed if the café's name rang any bells. If one thing on their menu was this good; chances were everything else was, too. Sure, she could just as easily grab coffee from a Staryubucks or Driftveil City Coffee—Cynthia passed at least four of them on the way back to the hospital—but she could drink that anywhere.

Natalia took a slow sip of her coffee. She closed her eyes, savoring the bitter taste of the drink. "You like it that much? You aren't just saying that to humor me?"

"Not at all! I'm staying at the Trainers Lodge and so are a lot of my friends. I want to take them here so they can try this, too. It's really, really good!"

Although Natalia was still smiling, it seemed bittersweet. Something tired and sad lurked in those black eyes. "I'm glad you think so highly of our food. Every time someone new and indecisive comes in, I always recommend that dish. It was Emiliya's favorite."

 _'Was_. _Not_ _is_.' Cynthia was tired, but that distinction wasn't lost on her. Her next bite tasted a little too sweet, like it was more sugar than fruit. There was a story here, and she doubted it would be a happy one. "I'm probably going to sound really stupid for asking this, but who is she?"

Natalia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. As she exhaled, her arms made a grandiose gesture: trying to draw Cynthia's attention to all the pictures and paintings in the café. "You aren't Kinzonian, so I'm not surprised her name and face mean nothing to you. But to Kalium City, the name Emiliya Khismatullina used to mean something."

Cynthia wanted to know, but she also didn't want to impose on this poor woman. Natalia had been every bit as lovely and hospitable as Zed. If this question hurt her in any way, she didn't need to answer. "I hope I didn't offend you by asking. If I'm bringing up some bad memories, I'm sorry."

She could see Natalia's hands fidget for a cigarette so she could fill her lungs with nicotine-laced smoke. "It's alright. I don't know how long you've been in this city, but Kalium has a reputation in Kinzo. We love our local celebrities a little _too_ much. In fact, there's even another café similar to this one just three blocks away. Every time a hometown hero looks like they're going to make it, we latch onto them and give them all of our support.

"About twenty years ago, a Kalium City boy was strong enough to earn a spot in Premier Vasiliev's Elite Four. We were so proud of Comrade Sokolov that when he came back to visit, we organized a parade for him. We're a hot spot for ace trainers, but Emiliya's the last time we thought we had a real superstar.

"She was an Elemental Specialist: a type of trainer who focuses on one type of Pokémon exclusively. The best ones go on to become Gym Leaders or join the Elite Four as soon as the Kinzo League has an opening. Emiliya was an Ice specialist and trained beneath the last of the Zykovas, but she didn't just battle. She put on figure skating shows with her Pokémon to promote local businesses and charities. Less than ten years ago, you couldn't go an entire city block without seeing her face on a poster or a billboard.

"We had been best friends since high school. When Emiliya started getting serious about her training, I converted my bistro into a themed café to promote her brand. All she had to do was come here sometimes, sponsor some of my dishes, and take a few photos with our regulars. Before she knew it, Emiliya had a loyal fan base and I felt like I'd helped her. As she continued to excel, our hearts swelled with pride. I truly believed she'd be our next Gym Leader."

But it wasn't her. Instead of this graceful ice princess, Kalium City gave the title to a narcissistic man-child who liked the idea of being a hero just as much as he hated having to do actual work. Cynthia at least had some semblance of respect for Simon Morozov. The only thing she felt toward Jet Melkadze was annoyance. That idiot nearly killed her friend!

She suspected that Emiliya didn't make the final cut and that this was why the city ended up with Jet instead. Nothing short of that would make any sense, but Cynthia was almost afraid to ask. Either Natalia would tell her, or she wouldn't. Either way, the girl couldn't bring herself to utter a word.

Natalia took another sip of her coffee, but made a hard swallow. "But in this city, nothing is ever so simple. The Kinzo League had two Gym Leader positions to fill: one here and one in Hydrargyrum City. They narrowed down the applicants to three qualified candidates: Emiliya, Jet, and a Water Elemental Specialist from Stannum City. We were all rooting for Emiliya and Jet, of course. But the day before the League announced who would take over the gyms…Emiliya threw herself in front of a Metro train."

Cynthia's entire body felt like it had been splashed with ice water. She couldn't believe what she was hearing! "She killed herself!? Why?!"

"I don't know, comrade. Maybe we were so interested in what Emiliya could do for us that we didn't stop to think about how she felt. Most of us tried to move on after it happened. All her billboards and commercials were reshot with Jet's smiling face. It's like we want to atone for the neglect we showed Emiliya, but also pretend she never existed in the first place.

"Jet eats for free at most local restaurants. Every Kalium City-based company wants to use him for advertisements. We have done all we can to make him feel like our most beloved golden child. As a result, most of us have actively chosen to forget our other star. Every so often, one of my regulars tells me I'd get more business if I changed themes. No one wants to look at a dead celebrity while they eat. They think nine years is enough time to grieve and it's high time to move on, but I can't do it. Emiliya was my best friend. How can I do that?"

As delicious as the food was, Cynthia couldn't bring herself to eat another bite. It didn't matter which direction her eyes went. Wherever she looked, that pretty ghost smiled back at her: daring her to consume more of her favorite dish. _Eat_ , that face seemed to say. _Enjoy what I can't._

The one seemingly safe place to look was back at Natalia, who was more focused on Cynthia's half-empty plate than the girl herself. "Do you want to take your leftovers with you?"

Cynthia nodded, wishing she could get the words to come out of her mouth, but her lips didn't cooperate. All she could get them to do was curl up into a nervous, apologetic smile.

"I'll get a box…"


	34. Pokemon Battle Boot Camp!

Although Cyrus appreciated the library books, he was too exhausted for another long visit. Cynthia offered to stay in the room until visiting hours were over, but all that poor boy wanted to do was rest. She couldn't exactly blame him. If she'd been torn to shreds by a rogue Golbat; she'd want to sleep it off, too. At least he seemed okay with a visit sometime tomorrow morning.

Considering how tired she was, Cynthia didn't feel like doing much, either. Finding the library and a place that served good breakfast food was more than enough adventure for one day. The only other chore on her to-do list was laundry, so she went back to the Trainers Lodge and camped out in the downstairs laundromat.

Watching the clothes spin around was calming, perhaps even hypnotic. More than once, she found herself nodding off—at least until a nearby machine's buzzer went off. The last time she checked the clock, she realized she'd been down there for three hours. That was fine. Some things—like Cyrus's sheets—needed to be washed twice, just to make sure they no longer smelled like Eevee pee.

And speaking of the Eevees, Cynthia could hear their Poké Balls rattling inside her bag. Neither one of them seemed to like being confined for long periods of time. The longer they sat in their balls, the more annoying they were when they came out. At least Cyrus's Eevee stopped making a fuss after a while, but Cynthia's Eevee could wriggle around forever. If there was even a faint glimmer of hope that he could break free from his prison, he'd keep rolling.

Eventually, Eevee lucked out. His ball rolled out of the bag and landed on the floor. When the button got pushed, the surly Pokémon bounced out and kicked the ball to the other side of the room. When Cynthia tried to reach for it, the Pokémon growled at her. He didn't snap or make any indication that he'd bite her, but he wanted Cynthia to know he was unhappy. Just as Cynthia extended her hand for Eevee to sniff, she heard a woman chuckle from the corner of the room.

"Havin' some trouble with your Eevee, kid?"

In the doorway was a familiar looking pair of scuffed up combat boots. Even from the opposite side of the laundry room, Cynthia could smell Campanella's cheap vodka and cigarette smoke. Draped over one of the Johtonian woman's muscular shoulders was a grungy-looking duffle bag. Wherever she was staying, she was at least doing her laundry here.

"Campanella! Hey! I haven't seen you since they evacuated the train. What did you do yesterday?"

"I got my 15 minutes of fame, that's what!" Once the door was unlocked, Campanella marched in and dropped the clothes on the clean floor. She called out her Raichu and Ambipom so they could help fold clothes and make the bed. "The local news wanted to do a story about the Metro attack. It ain't every day that one of Kinzo's fancy trains fucks up."

"I suppose not. Did you tell them how you and Raichu saved the day?"

People were still talking about it at dinner last night. Most of the other trainers didn't know Campanella that well, but they at least knew she was Cynthia's friend. Cynthia had been too tired to pay much attention to the conversation, but everyone seemed really glad that Campanella was on the train. For that day, at least, she'd been everyone's hero.

"Of course I told 'em! They paid me for the interview and even took me out to dinner! Ever had _coulibiac_ before?" Cynthia had no idea what that was. Before she could tell Campanella that, the woman kept going. "Me neither, but it's fuckin' delicious. Anyway, we finished after curfew. I spent the night at the news station. That's why ya didn't see me at the Lodge."

"I'm sorry. That sounds awful."

"Naaaaaah. It ain't that bad. The reporter who interviewed me told me that kinda shit happens all the time. They keep beanbag chairs and hammocks in the break room, just in case they need to pull an all-nighter. I got a good night's sleep out there, which I'm guessin' is more than you can say. That Eevee's been givin' you trouble, hasn't he?"

Cynthia groaned, but she nodded her head. "Believe it or not, he's the _good_ one. Cyrus's Eevee is wearing on my last nerve."

"I ain't surprised. Every freakin' Eevee I've ever met's been an asshole."

"Really? I'm surprised. Some of my friends have Eevees. Theirs are friendly." One of her old classmates had an Eevee who shook hands, played fetch, and even let her trainer doll her up in cute clothes. She loved attention, treats, and having her fur brushed. "They're probably just stressed out from what happened on the train."

If that were the case, she couldn't exactly blame them for being ornery. She wasn't sure how Cyrus managed to bond with his Eevee, but the little creature adored him. Now that he wasn't here; his Pokémon felt anxious, upset, and maybe even a tad jealous. Keeping Cynthia awake all night and bullying the other Eevee was probably how he coped with the added stress—but that harassment definitely contributed to the other Eevee's rotten mood.

"I reckon that's part of it," Campanella grunted. She dumped all her laundry into an empty washing machine, sorting colors be damned. Cynthia hoped she didn't have any reds and whites in the same batch, lest everything turn into a pink mess. "But that ain't all. Before y'all showed up, Myrtle loaned me an Eevee too. That little fucker was every bit as annoying as he was adorable."

Cynthia tried her best to suppress a laugh, but some of it slipped out anyway. "I'm having a hard time picturing somebody like you with an Eevee." Campanella seemed a bit too rough and rowdy for such a cute Pokémon. "Did he keep you up all night?"

"Hell yeah, he did! He kept breakin' out of his Poké Ball, too! I eventually had to put duct tape over the button at night, just so the little shit stayed put. Followin' mornin', he'd go on a tirade. _Vee vee vee vee fuckin' veeeee_." Campanella rolled her eyes and flopped down to sit beside Cynthia on the floor. Her thick, muscular legs were strewn out in a rather tomboyish, unladylike fashion. "As soon as the government gave the all clear for me to get my old team outta quarantine, I gave his fluffy butt back to Myrtle."

For a brief moment, Cynthia wondered if she or Cyrus inherited Campanella's old Eevee. There was probably no way to find out for sure without calling Professor Myrtle. She bred, hatched, bottle fed, and socialized every single one of those Pokémon. It stood to reason that she would know them all by heart.

"What about you, kid? Myrtle said you had one hell of a lineup in quarantine. When it's time to get your Pokémon back, are you gonna miss your Eevee?"

Just out of arm's reach, Eevee watched the clothes spin in a nearby machine. Each time a button rattled against the metal interior of the machine, his tail twitched in agitation. As soon as he noticed Cynthia was looking at him, Eevee lowered his ears and scrunched his head deeper into his shoulders. At least didn't hiss this time.

Cynthia leaned her back against the wall and sighed. "I actually think I will." Eevee didn't come any closer to her, but he'd lifted one of his ears: proof that he was listening to the conversation. "He can be a little bratty sometimes, but it's hard to stay detached when you see each other every day. I want Eevee to feel like he's part of the team, however long that is."

Campanella shrugged her broad shoulders and smirked. "I dunno, kid. I've had my same team since I was younger than you. I ain't had much of a reason to add another Pokémon; especially not some rude little shit who bites your ankles every time you try to take a piss."

Cynthia could have done without hearing that last part, but she could at least understand where her friend was coming from. She hadn't seen Campanella's Jumpluff and Rapidash yet, but her Raichu and Ambipom adored her. They interacted like pieces of a small family. Not a lot of trainers reached that level of friendship with their teams.

Cynthia would probably never bond with Eevee to that level; but she at least wanted him to feel welcome. Pokémon were far more perceptive than people gave them credit for. They could tell when a trainer didn't plan on keeping them. Some stopped trying in battles. Others tried to run away, stopped eating, or even forced themselves not to evolve. A trainer who wanted to use moves like Frustration could capitalize on a Pokémon's hurt feelings, but Cynthia never wanted to be that kind of person. Eevee got on her nerves at times, but so could her Gible and she loved that goofy dirt dragon to bits.

When the dryer buzzed to indicate the clothes were dry, Cynthia got up. "Hey, Campanella? I don't know where you're staying, but I have a private room. Since Cyrus is in the hospital for a few more days, you're more than welcome to—"

"Naaaaah. There's no need for that." Campanella returned to her feet and offered to grab some of Cynthia's laundry. "I'm staying with the Lodge Owner. Zed's an old college buddy."

Cynthia wasn't sure which part of that statement surprised her more: that Campanella knew Zed or that she'd gone to college. "Well, I'm glad you have a place to stay! When I didn't see you yesterday, I thought you might be at a hotel. You know, like last time?"

Campanella snorted at that and waved one hand dismissively. "Ha ha ha ha. Naaaaaah! This is totally different! I didn't stay with y'all in Plumbum City 'cause I had some other business to take care of: stuff that had nothin' to do with Myrtle. So, uh…which room's yours? I bet Ambipom an' I can fold and get all this shit put away in five minutes."

"You don't have to do that," but Campanella seemed pretty insistent about helping out. Cynthia gestured for the older woman to follow her. Her own footsteps were light, but she could feel Campanella's. The wooden planks groaned beneath her, especially once they made it to the stairs.

"Do ya mind if I smoke in the room, kid?"

"I'd rather you didn't." Cynthia didn't have asthma—and she was pretty sure Cyrus didn't, either—but that didn't mean she wanted to breathe in Campanella's noxious fumes. Her cigarettes smelled like Weezing smog. They probably weren't even filtered.

Raichu sorted socks faster than anyone or anything Cynthia had ever encountered. As soon as her beady eyes caught sight of two socks that matched; she took them into her nubby paws, put them together, and tossed them into a neat little pile. She even guessed by the foot size which socks belonged to Cyrus or Cynthia. They each had a separate stack.

Ambipom was equally productive. She used her two tails to grab the opposite sides of the sheets, pulled them down into tight corners, and made the bed like a professional. Campanella wasn't kidding about her Pokémon being good at this. They must have helped her all the time in Azalea Town.

"Do you think you'll be on TV, Campanella? That would be pretty cool."

"Hm? Yeah, probably. Those reporters were practically droolin' over that story. Kalium City ain't had this much excitement since their ding dong Gym Leader got promoted."

"Uuuuuugh. Jet, right? I met him during the evacuation." And the less she thought about that narcissistic man-baby, the better!

Campanella sat on Cyrus's perfectly made bed and grinned teasingly at Cynthia. "I'm guessin' you ain't a Jet Melkadze fan?"

"Absolutely not! He's horrible!" Cynthia didn't mean to slam the dresser drawer shut. It just happened. "He was so focused on making small talk that he missed the exit for the hospital. Cyrus nearly bled to death!" It would be a long, long time before she forgave Jet for that…assuming he apologized at all. From what little she'd seen of him already, he didn't seem the sort to even bother. "But I'm guessing he has a reputation? I mean, you called him a ding dong."

"That's 'cause he's dumber than a bag of hammers: a real fuckin' meathead." Campanella leaned back, causing the whole bed to groan in protest. She was a bit too large for it. "I get this kinda flak from folks sometimes, too. It pisses me off when people think anyone who likes to work out is a big dumb jock. I know I talk like a hick, but I ain't stupid. Jet actually _is_. That sorry sack of shit's so fuckin' dumb that he'd probably get lost in a clear plastic bag."

It was rude to laugh over something like that, but Cynthia couldn't help it. "You have no idea how relieved I am to hear someone else doesn't like him."

Jet's handsome face smiled and waved from billboards all across the city. Each time Cynthia stepped foot in a Metro station, she'd hear his voice play over the intercom. It never bothered her in the past. Now that she'd met him, all she wanted to do was flip a certain finger at his picture every time she saw it.

"So, uh…what's wrong with Cyrus? You said he's in the hospital."

Cynthia parted her lips to say something, but was distracted when something soft bumped against her leg. When she looked down, her Eevee was staring back at her! She slowly moved to pick him up, giving him plenty of chances to run away. He didn't do it. Once Cynthia placed Eevee beside her on the bed, he made a happy sound and decided to nap on her pillow. This was progress!

The same could not be said for Cyrus and the reason he was in the hospital. "His Golbat roughed him up."

"Shit…" Campanella winced. "Those things are fucking poisonous."

"Yeah. That's what the doctors said. They want to keep him in observation for a few days, just to make sure he doesn't have a bad reaction to the antivenom. He looks terrible…"

It would probably be several days before Cynthia stopped having bad dreams about taking Cyrus to the hospital. He'd felt so cold in her hands and it was all she could do to keep from shrieking at Jet for being such a bumbling idiot. Even though Cyrus was doing a bit better, he still looked like death warmed over.

"I really hope he's discharged soon. Exploring Kinzo doesn't feel right without him. I don't even want to challenge Jet until Cyrus can too."

Campanella's Pokémon scampered over; both thrilled to show that they'd finished their chores. She gave Ambipom and Raichu each an affectionate pat on the back and put them back in their Poké Balls. As the light flashed, both were grinning with glee. "I can't say I blame ya for wanting to bring someone else along to the Kalium Gym. Jet's got a fiancée, but that's never stopped him from being a creep to female challengers."

"Ewww!" Cynthia could feel her cheeks turning pink, so she covered her face with her hands. "That's so sleazy! He's gotta be twice my age!"

"You think that's gonna stop him? It ain't. You're 15, right?" When Cynthia nodded her head, she felt her stomach do a backflip. "16's the age of majority in Kinzo, kid. You're just a few months shy of being legal here."

"THAT'S SO GROSS!" Cynthia didn't want to think about that big beefy bearded jackass trying to make a pass at her! If he did, she'd kick his ass or die trying. "Did he hit on you, too!?"

Campanella was completely horizontal on the bed and let loose a long, annoyed groan. "Yeeeeeep. Once Lord God King Fuckboy's Croagunk beat my Ambipom, he asked if I wanted to place a wager. If he could get past my next Pokémon, he wanted to go out for dinner and…heh… _arm wrestle_."

Cynthia didn't even have to look at Campanella to know what sort of gesture she was making with her hand. She didn't want to see.

"Lucky for me, Jumpluff took care of the rest and finished the fight. Don't take this the wrong way, kiddo, but you're a very pretty girl. I wouldn't put it past Jet to make a pass at you. If you want someone to watch your back when you battle 'im, I'll go."

"I don't know…" In the other regions Cynthia explored in the past, Gym Leaders had to hold themselves to a higher standard than most people. They gave back to their cities and towns through charities and fundraisers. Some even helped the local police catch high profile criminals during times of trouble.

The bar seemed to be set even higher for the Kinzo Gym Leaders. A large percentage of Simon's prize money went toward his battle school and the Ædranos Ruins. Jet was a first responder for local disasters. Gym Leaders probably had to do that in the other cities, too. They were the poster children for the local government: shining examples of an ideal Kinzonian Pokémon Trainer! If a Gym Leader acted in a less than reputable manner, there surely had to be consequences.

"I think I'll just wait until Cyrus can go with me. I don't want Jet to give him a hard time, either. But um…" Cynthia rolled over so she could make direct eye contact with Campanella. "If you want to help us out, there's something you _could_ do."

"Yeah? Whatcha thinkin', kiddo?"

"I'm taking care of Cyrus's Pokémon. One of them didn't want to sleep last night, and—"

"It was the Eevee, wasn't it? Do ya want me to look after the little guy for a few hours so you can take a nap? You look like shit."

"Gee, _thanks_. But no. There's no need for that." Cynthia scratched one of her Eevee's cheeks. The Pokémon's ears and tail twitched, but that was nothing compared to his hind leg. It went up and down in a circular motion: like it would for a happy Houndour or Growlithe. "Cyrus told me that he battles his Pokémon right before bed. That way, they're too tired to do anything other than sleep. He says they recover overnight, but I'm not completely sold on the idea. What if they actually get hurt?"

Campanella cracked her knuckles. "He ain't exactly wrong about that. Pokémon can sleep off most types of damage."

Cynthia gave Campanella a skeptical look, not quite sure if she was being honest. "You're sure about that?"

"Hell yes, I'm sure! How do you think moves like Rest work? For that matter, how do you think wild Pokémon recover from battles? They don't exactly go to Pokémon Centers, Cynthia. This is how it works."

This was the sort of thing that Cynthia wanted to verify with a Pokémon professor later—maybe Rowan or Sycamore. Campanella was Myrtle's aide, though; and she did have plenty of experience as a trainer. Maybe she was onto something with this. "I just thought they ate berries," Cynthia mumbled. "So you think we should battle?"

Campanella was already making her way to the door, gesturing for Cynthia to follow her back downstairs to a Battle Room. "We'll do an exhaustion battle. Ambipom's at a way higher level than the stuff in your party. They can all tag team against her until they're worn out. Once they all look good an' tired, we'll call it a night."

…

The Plumbum City Lodge boasted six fully functional Battle Rooms. By comparison, the Kalium City Lodge only had two. Both, unfortunately, were occupied.

In one room, a nuggetty man with brown hair and a thick neck rushed into the arena to catch his Beautifly before it collapsed on the ground. The Bug Pokémon weakly flapped her wings a couple of times and then went limp. The man hugged the bug and switched her out for his next Pokémon: a Dustox.

He whined in frustration at his opponent: a pink-haired girl Cynthia recognized as Tamari Beridze. The rambunctious girl did a victory dance with her Dunsparce and stuck out her tongue at the man. Cynthia remembered a time when she'd been tempted to make faces like that at her opponents, but she'd long since outgrown it.

In the other room, Cynthia recognized both challengers. On the left, Isaac called his Baltoy back long enough to spray it with a Potion. On the right, Eric squatted down to pat his Skitty on the head. Even with the solid glass door shut, Cynthia could hear him using cutesy baby talk with the pink Pokémon. Since the doors were transparent, the boys quickly spotted Cynthia and urged her to come inside.

"Hellooooo, ladies!" Eric teased, blowing an air kiss toward the women. Cynthia decided to ignore it, but Campanella swatted her hand as if to blow it away. That didn't deter the paunchy college student from coming closer, a bit of swagger in his step. "Did you come here to cheer for Mr. Skitty and me? That's so sweet!"

"It ain't nothin' like that, kid," Campanella grunted, tapping the discarded Potion with the tip of her boot. "We're just hopin' to hijack your room."

"Huh? Yeah, sure! I'm almost done kicking Isaac's ass, anyway."

"You are not! The last time I checked, Eric, I was winning two to—hey, wait!" By this point, neither boy was paying any further attention to their battle. Isaac approached Campanella, his entire face lighting up with recognition. "I remember you! You're the lady with the Raichu!"

"Yep." Campanella shook the boy's hand firmly. "Glad to see you and your pal made it off the train in one piece."

"It's all thanks to you, ma'am! If you want the room, you can have it!"

Campanella gave her biggest, nicest, toothiest grin before pulling Isaac's hand in for a firm handshake. "That's mighty nice of ya, kid. Did y'all wanna stick around and watch us battle?"

Cynthia could already see the _yes_ forming on Eric's lips, but Isaac put a mitten-covered hand over his friend's mouth and shot the ladies an apologetic smile. When he did that, he was kind of cute…in a freckly, nerdy sort of way. "We'd love to, but tomorrow's kind of a big day for us. We're challenging the Gym Leader first thing in the morning."

"Wuh-ha-bou-ta-ma-hrah-aah-aah-oooh?" Eric's words were too muffled to be coherent. When he saw the confused look on Cynthia's face, he pushed Isaac's hand away from his face and cleared his throat. "Sorry about that. I was trying to ask if you're free tomorrow afternoon. Lulu wants to check out the boardwalk and see what kind of Pokémon are on the beach."

"Ooooh!" That sounded like a great idea! It had been a while since Cynthia was able to collect any new data for Professor Myrtle. Exploring the beach and looking for wildlife would be a great way to report back some updates. "I'd love to! What about you, Campanella?"

"As fun as that beach is, I already made other plans. Y'ain't gonna hurt my feelings if you go without me. But, uh…y'all know the police shut down the Metro, right?"

"What!? Really?" Isaac cringed. "What on earth for?"

"I think they're tryin' to stop the bombers from leaving town. Until the police find those Team Sigma bastards, I'm afraid the only way you'll get to the beach is by foot or taxi. The Lodge ain't exactly close to the harbor."

At this revelation, Isaac slouched and groaned. "No. No, it's not. I checked the map. Aw, man…"

"Y'all should still go, though. If all your buddy has is that Skitty; you should hit the beach _before_ you challenge Jet, not after. He'll pulverize that pink piece of—"

"Where do you get off on telling me my Skitty sucks, lady?! He's a badass!"

It wasn't the first time Eric called Mr. Skitty a badass. Cynthia doubted it would be the last time, either. While it was sweet that he had this much faith in his Pokémon's abilities, Cynthia privately agreed with Campanella. If all Eric had were other Normal Pokémon, then Jet would annihilate him. Isaac, on the other hand, would probably be fine. His Baltoy was a perfect opponent.

"He beat Simon, okay?!"

Isaac folded his arms and let loose a long, frustrated sigh. It was all too obvious he was done with this conversation and already thinking about a long, good night's sleep. "That's because you blew half our weekly budget on a Shadow Ball TM, you cheating dork."

"Hey! HEY! How is that cheating?!" Eric cleared his throat and fanned himself, trying his best to hide the fact his cheeks were turning red. "Screw it. Just look for us at breakfast and let us know if you're in for the beach trip."

"Alright," Cynthia replied, giving both boys her friendliest smile. "I'll let you know. Have a good night, guys. See you tomorrow."

She ended up waving goodbye until the door closed. As soon as she heard the latch shut, she gave a big wicked grin to Campanella and pulled out her first Poké Ball: Cyrus's Eevee. Considering what a pain he was last night, she definitely wanted to exhaust him first.

Eevee scampered around the room, instantly recognizing it as a Battle Room. "Veeeeeee!" Instead of stressed or nervous, he sounded thrilled. A Pokémon battle just before bedtime was how he knew the day was over. Once Cynthia took him back to the room, he wouldn't give her any further trouble. He glanced up at Cynthia and cooed at her, even going so far as to flop over and expose his belly: a sign of trust.

Cynthia accepted the invitation and stroked the Pokémon's stomach, watching in amusement as he rolled around and spread his haunches. He loved the attention. "I think we're ready to begin, Campanella. Let's do this!"

Campanella took her stance on the right side of the room and grinned, hands firmly in her coat pockets. She pulled Ambipom's ball out and calmly pushed the button. "A'ight, Ambipom. You're up." The Pokémon pounded on her chest and did a cartwheel in excitement. "Now, hold on a minute. There ain't no reason to get this riled up. We're only doin' an exhaustion battle! All you're gonna do is wear these little fuckers out. Got it?" Ambipom grinned like a maniac, but at least she seemed to understand.

"I like your Ambipom's enthusiasm. Eevee, use—"

"Fake Out!" Campanella wasted no time, and neither did her Ambipom.

Before Eevee fully realized what was going on, Ambipom had a tail to each side of his face. The two fat, udder-like "hands" at the ends of her tails came together with a powerful force. Eevee flinched, unable to move. The hit landed and there was no way he could avoid it.

"Eevee!" Cynthia wasn't going to proceed until the Pokémon gave her some sort of indication that he could still fight. "Are you okay?" Eevee bumped a paw against her slipper-covered foot, trying to show the girl that he could keep going. "Oooooh! Good boy! Here's an Oran Berry!"

Since her Eevee was sound asleep and minding his own business, he probably didn't need to battle. Cyrus was the only one with a hyperactive Pokémon. The whole point of this battle was to wear out his Eevee. If Cynthia could drag this out, she would.

"Alright, Eevee. Use Quick Attack!"

Eevee didn't disappoint her. The little Pokémon moved with such swiftness that all Cynthia could see was a brown and cream-colored blur. The blur made impact with Ambipom, temporarily knocking the big monkey over.

Ambipom dropped something and scrambled to pick it back up, but Campanella had other plans. "Thief!" Ambipom nodded her head in understanding and smacked the berry out of Eevee's mouth.

The brown fox collapsed, all four legs splayed. He stared up at Cynthia with pleading, exhausted eyes. Ambipom was more than a match for him, and every hit she landed put him back in the red. "Vee…"

"Oh no no, sir! You're not done yet!" Cynthia held up one hand to indicate her team needed a time out. She stepped into the battle ring and pulled another treat out: a Sitrus Berry candy. "Eat up, Eevee! The night's still young!"

Eevee ate the treat and happily scampered back into the arena, tickled beyond belief that his temporary caretaker finally understood what he wanted. To show his appreciation, he chastised Ambipom by flicking his bushy tail in her face. The big monkey was so annoyed by the taunt that she tried to use Fake Out without a command and missed.

"What the heck, Ambipom? That attack only works at the beginning of a battle! Use—"

"Quick Attack, Eevee! Now!" The attack seemed to annoy Ambipom more than it injured her. As she nibbled on her Leftovers to restore some of her HP, Ambipom's tail-hands both made a rude gesture directly at Eevee. When she did that, Cynthia couldn't help but laugh. Some Pokémon picked up on their trainer's mannerisms, and this was definitely something that Ambipom had learned from Campanella. "You're doing great out there!"

Eevee was panting from exhaustion, trying his best to stay upright. He nearly fell over. That last attack really took it out of him!

"Okay, Ambipom! Finish him with a Façade!"

The move ended up being overkill. Eevee had done so well up to that point, but he'd irked Ambipom enough to invoke her wrath. Although she knew this was an exhaustion match, Ambipom put all her power into that attack and knocked Eevee out in one hit. He didn't even try to get up.

"Eevee!" Cynthia hurried over to the Pokémon's side and squatted down, ready to pick him up. "Hey, sweetie. If I give you another treat, can you keep going?"

Eevee was too tired to do much more than weakly mewl in protest. He looked up at Cynthia with black, disappointed eyes. Halfway through the battle, he realized Cynthia was more interested in tiring him out than helping him grow. He felt like he'd been duped. This was a letdown.

"Aww. You're done? So soon?"

To prove he'd finally had enough, Eevee nuzzled his head deeper into the crook of Cynthia's left arm and went limp. When she tried to put him down, he made his body heavier and leaned into her side. He was too tired to fight, but that didn't mean he wanted to go back in the ball. He wanted to be held like a baby.

This, at least, Cynthia could humor him. It would be a bit tough to do everything with her arms occupied, so she sat down and put the tired Eevee in her lap. She reached in her bag for Golbat's ball and called him out, hoping he'd be in a good enough mood to not cause any trouble.

As soon as Golbat came out of his Poké Ball, he looked like he wanted to bite someone's head off. After he took a moment to look around the Battle Room and only found Cynthia and Campanella, he calmed down. Even though he smiled at Cynthia and playfully flapped his wings at her, she felt a bit guilty. All she could think about was what Cyrus said in the hospital: **_I guess that means he just hates me_**.

This kind of proved it.

"Hey, kid?" Campanella tried to flag Cynthia down. "You just wanted to wear out the Eevee, right? How about making the rest of this a regular battle? Ambipom's gettin' antsy."

"Um…" Cynthia wasn't entirely sure if that was a good idea. "Part of the reason Golbat gave Cyrus trouble is because he trained him until he was uncontrollable. I can tell he wants to battle, but I don't want to make him any stronger." Golbat turned around to give Cynthia a pleading look. He pointed his wing insistently at the Ambipom, making it clear that a battle would make him very happy—especially if he won!

Damn it. It was way too hard to say no to that face.

Cynthia took a deep breath and hugged Eevee a little tighter to her body. "Okay. Fine. One battle can't hurt." She may as well have told Golbat that she found him a new mate. He rushed into his part of the arena, flapping his entire body with anticipation.

"Y'know, there's another way to make sure he doesn't level up," Campanella teased. "I can always just knock him out! Ambipom, use Thief again!"

Not only did the attack land a hit, but Golbat found it hard to remain airborne afterward. Judging by how much he seemed to be struggling, Ambipom's attack must have cost him more than half his total health! "What on earth do you feed that Ambipom?"

"You mean aside from a fuck ton of vitamins?" Campanella joked, a bit of haughtiness in her tone. "All jokin' aside, Ambipom's at a much higher level than that Golbat. I've got four Kinzo badges. Anything up to Level 50's gonna listen to me!"

"Okay, Golbat. Use Confuse Ray!"

A bright light flickered throughout the room. There was nowhere to run or hide from the attack. It landed, successfully stupefying and disorienting Ambipom. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to convince the big monkey to hurt herself in confusion. The next time Campanella called for her to use Façade, Ambipom landed a hit…and Golbat was out for the count.

"Not bad, kid. Not bad at all!" Campanella held out both of her hands so Ambipom could double high-five her with her tails. "You've only got one Pokémon left, right? Your Spiritomb?"

Yes, she did. And she could feel it rattling in excitement inside its Poké Ball. Spiritomb loved to battle, provided it was shown the proper respect. "I'll have to see if it's up for fighting."

"You can't be fucking serious. You overleveled _your_ Pokémon, too?"

"No. Spiritomb's just fussy." That was the simplest way she could explain it. If Cynthia accidentally hurt Spiritomb's feelings or it didn't feel respected, the persnickety ghost would actively choose to ignore her commands. Simon told her it was because the souls inside her Spiritomb still remembered what it was like to be human and they wanted to be treated as such. Campanella would probably think that sounded crazy. "If it's not in a fighting mood, we might have to call it a night."

To her surprise, Spiritomb was in fighting form. As soon as it came out of its Poké Ball, it exerted its pressure and did a fantastic job of scaring Campanella's Ambipom. For the entire battle, the monkey Pokémon kept the same goofy grin on her big, silly face. The moment she locked eyes with Spiritomb, Ambipom's smile changed into a big, terrified frown.

Ambipom didn't even wait for Campanella to command her. In a fit of panic, she charged at Spiritomb with Fake Out, but ended up hurting herself instead.

"You see that, Spiritomb?" Cynthia beamed at her Pokémon, hoping it noticed how proud she was. "You're so scary that she'd rather knock herself out than face you!" That tiny bit of praise seemed to be the magic words. Spiritomb's grin stretched all the way to the top of its cloud, growing greener and brighter with every passing second. "Think you can take her down?"

' ** _Child…_** ' She could hear that creepy, chattering voice in the back of her head: like an army's worth of whispers. Some movies used a computer-altered voice similar to that for demons and creatures possessed by multiple souls. It gave her the shivers every time she heard it. ' ** _I have rested all day. Hurting another creature will give me immense pleasure._** '

' _Hurting? Wait! I just want you to—_ '

Every light in the Battle Room flickered and changed colors when Spiritomb used Psychic against Ambipom. The poor creature shrieked in terror and swatted at Spiritomb, hoping that she could deal some sort of damage to its dreadful face. Instead, her tail only met thin air, swung back around, and smacked her right in the face. She tried again, only managing to hurt herself further. Seeing Ambipom's reaction only made Spiritomb want to use Psychic again.

It repeated, over and over again. Cynthia was amazed that Ambipom could take so many blows, most of which were self-inflicted. The more injuries she bestowed upon herself, the more Spiritomb cackled and laughed at her expense. It thought this was great fun: one of the most delightful battles it had faced since the last town over!

After ten minutes of Ambipom's frightened flagellation, she finally managed to snap out of her confusion. She charged at Spiritomb with Façade, but it had no effect. Spiritomb cackled at her, mocking both Ambipom and her trainer for thinking such a move would work against it.

Campanella had long since stopped smiling. What originally felt like an easy battle had actually turned into a challenge! "Mean fucker, ain't he? How did a nice girl like you wind up catchin' somethin' that nasty?"

By this point, Ambipom was crying in fear. She pointed a nubby purple paw toward her grimacing face and made a strained scream through her teeth. She wanted Campanella to call her back and end this before that wretched thing came at her again.

But the fight wasn't over. Spiritomb was having way too much fun. With the next Psychic, Ambipom fell to the ground and shivered all over. For a brief moment, Cynthia wondered if her Pokémon actually bested Campanella's. "Spiritomb, I…I think you did it…"

Spiritomb seemed excited by the prospect of coming out of this battle triumphant. It had sensed that Ambipom was at least twice its level, so defeating her would be quite the accomplishment. The ghost rolled its stone closer to Ambipom, hoping to get a good look at its bested opponent, but that proved to be a mistake.

Ambipom was exhausted, but hardly unconscious. She grabbed Spiritomb's stone and shook it until it lost its Oran Berry. Spiritomb was so startled and outraged that it let loose a shrill, high-pitched shriek. Both Cynthia and Campanella covered their ears, hoping to ward off the impending migraine, but it was too late. That scream was like a rusty nail scratching against a chalkboard.

' ** _YOU DAMN DIRTY APE! TAKE YOUR FILTHY PAWS OFF US!_** ' Spiritomb launched another bright light in Ambipom's face: a Confuse Ray. ' ** _BEAT YOURSELF INTO OBLIVION!_** '

Ambipom was so confused that she couldn't see straight, but that didn't change the fact she already had Spiritomb in her paws. She hoisted its stone over her head and slammed it into the center of the arena with all her might. Cynthia heard an audible crack and watched as Spiritomb's cloud turned into an unsettling, dim skull pattern.

"Spiritomb!" Cynthia put Cyrus's Eevee down on the floor and rushed toward her Pokémon. That was quite a heavy blow, so she wanted to make sure it was alright. Ambipom pointed at it accusingly and screeched an incoherent string of simian profanities until Campanella called her back.

Once Ambipom was gone, Cynthia saw her Pokémon's rock shiver on the ground. Very cautiously, she grabbed the discarded Oran Berry and nudged it toward Spiritomb. Part of the rock split open a little further and sucked in the berry, making weird chewing sounds.

"You did great out there," she whispered, gently stroking the stone. When Spiritomb's vapors finally came out of the stone again, it smiled at her. "I know Ambipom pushed some of your buttons when she picked you up, but did you have fun?" The cloud nodded. "I'm glad. I guess we'll all sleep better tonight, huh…?"

Campanella brushed herself off and held out her hand, ready to help Cynthia stand up. "Good match, kid. Your Pokémon's kind of an asshole, but you should be proud of him. He knocked Ambipom all the way into the red. If you're using _that_ against Jet, you'll be in good shape."

Cynthia was seriously thinking about it, but she didn't want to rely solely on Spiritomb. She at least wanted Eevee to participate. "Thanks. I…" She took a deep breath and sucked in a yawn. "Phew! I think that wore _me_ out more than it did the Pokémon…"


	35. Big Bidoof Bonanza!

The past forty-eight hours had been nothing short of terrible. First, Avdantil had to force everyone out of the train lavatory so he could wash all the blood off. He couldn't even tell if it belonged to his Zubat or that weak kid he'd terrorized; but it didn't really matter. He just knew his clothes smelled like a slaughterhouse and people screamed when he tried to fetch his partner.

After he found Natela, they hid in a utility closet and switched their Team Sigma uniforms out for civilian clothes. It was probably too late to blend in with the other passengers, but they still needed to try. The whole time, Natela bitched at him for wasting his resources on a pointless fight. Avdantil grunted out a fake apology, but they both knew he didn't mean it.

To avoid being recognized, they decided to wait things out in another car. There weren't any vacant seats, but the passengers were too scared to pay attention to that. Each time things got quiet; Natela turned on the waterworks and hugged Avdantil. This meant, of course, he'd have to play the comforting boyfriend when all he wanted to do was gag. She smelled like cheap body spray and dirty hair.

As they waited for help to arrive, every trainer with an Electric Pokémon joined forces to turn the power back on. Avdantil would never admit it aloud, but he was impressed by how everyone came together for a common goal. If he'd had an Electric Pokémon, he probably would have joined in too!

When the rescue team finally showed up, Natela made sure they were two of the first to evacuate. The man who saved them wasn't from Kalium City, but Natela was. She sat in the front seat and pointed out which exit could get them to the Trainers Lodge.

By the time they finally made it to the Lodge, all the private rooms were booked. The free public barracks were separated by sex; so they'd either have to sleep in separate rooms, get a hotel, or reach out to Natela's parents. Natela refused to talk to her family and they wouldn't be able to justify the cost of a hotel room to their Beta, so they decided to take their chances at the Lodge and lay low.

Most of yesterday, they kept a low profile and stayed put. They played a few board games, chatted with some of the other guests, and kept an eye out for anyone who might recognize them. Avdantil even helped his partner cut the pink tips out of her badly bleached hair, just in case someone described her color job to the local police.

Close to sunset, Natela slipped away to make a phone call. Avdantil didn't see her again until noon the following day.

The next morning, he made a mistake. All of his surviving Pokémon were long overdue for a checkup, so he took them to the Kalium City Pokémon Center. He'd expected the nurse to do what she typically did—run them through the machine, give the balls back to him, and wish him a nice day—but she confiscated his Pokémon instead.

It wasn't the first time a head nurse took his Pokémon, but that didn't make it any less annoying. Avdantil wanted to strangle Nurse Yulia, but he thought better of it and kept (at least outwardly) calm. He politely insisted this was all a big misunderstanding, but the nurse saw through his shit. She didn't buy his innocent act for an instant. Instead, she pulled up Guano Lisa's file and asked him to confirm that this was his Zubat.

He couldn't believe it. Someone had actually taken the corpse from the train, just so they could report him!

As much as he wanted to throw Nurse Yulia down a flight of stairs, that wasn't a viable option. Instead, he tried to politely explain that Guano Lisa died in a death match on a Battle Car: one of the few places in Kinzo where those sorts of battles were still legal.

Nurse Yulia didn't buy that lie, either. Apparently, there was an eyewitness who insisted Avdantil killed his Zubat with his bare hands. Fucking Cyrus. The next time he saw that brat, he'd punch his teeth out.

Today's lunch was from Moo Moo Burger: a popular Unovan fast food chain. The Lodge Owner said few things brightened his day more than a six-pack of Pidove nuggets or a Bouffalant burger. Considering how massive he was, Avdantil believed him.

His partner seemed to believe it, too. She was stuffing her face with fries, burgers, nuggets, _and_ a triple berry milkshake. Just watching her suck it down was nothing short of nauseating…but it explained why her acne was so bad.

The two Gammas found a table in the far back of the Lodge's dining area, just beneath a noisy air vent. The nearby fluorescent bulbs flickered, meaning people would really have to stare at them for a while to get a good idea of what they looked like. Even then, it wasn't like they were up to anything. If anyone looked, they'd see nothing but a pair of college-aged young adults eating their precious deep-fried garbage.

"Where did you go last night, Natela? I was in the common area until midnight. You never showed." Avdantil didn't expect Natela to answer right away. She was more preoccupied with shoveling more fries into her mouth. The lippy, smacking noises she made as she chewed were nothing short of revolting. "And try not to be so noisy. It's disgusting."

Natela glared at him through her thick bangs. " _You're_ disgusting. Your burger is so rare that the blood's dribbling all over your hands. Don't they teach you basic table manners in Ferrum Town?"

"As a matter of fact," Avdantil hissed, "they do. And apparently, my manners are better than yours because _I_ at least know how to chew with my mouth closed."

Natela was a very insecure girl. She liked to talk a big game and act like she was hot shit, but she wasn't. She was no threat to him, so Avdantil typically ignored her attempts to bait him. Insulting his hometown, however, had crossed a line.

Kalium City had a strange love affair with foreign food: especially the cheap and fast kind. Natela grew up being able to eat any kind of food she wanted. Avdantil had no idea if this burger was fresh or frozen, not that it really mattered. The fact he didn't have to add water to rehydrate the beef meant it was leagues better than anything he'd get at home.

Ferrum Town's only legal source of income was a 200-year-old mine that barfed out poisonous gasses and metallic dust. There was so much iron in the air that the snow and sky looked pink. Even if some crazy bastard tried to farm out there, it wouldn't work. Nothing grew and livestock didn't last long. If food didn't come from a can, a box, or a plastic bag; it couldn't be trusted.

Avdantil was well aware that his hometown was one of the shittiest places in Kinzo. That still didn't give a Kalium City brat like Natela the right to badmouth it.

His partner slowly shoved another handful of fries into her mouth, making direct eye contact with Avdantil the entire time. Just to piss him off, she smacked more loudly. "I know it's probably too much to ask, but can you at least wipe that blood off your hands? I feel like I'm having dinner with a caveman."

"Sure. I can do that, but I _won't_ until you tell me where you were last night."

Natela rolled her eyes and grumbled something under her breath before turning her pale eyes up to Avdantil. "Very well. I launched a preemptive strike against our friend with the Spiritomb."

"Oh?"

The Ædranos Ruins incident dropped their squad's success rate by half a percent. Statistics meant everything to Team Sigma. Once their rating dropped to a certain threshold, there was a good chance they'd be called in to talk with their Beta (or worse) about "restructuring." In a best case scenario, that meant termination; but Aldous was every bit as creative as he was vicious. A mistake this big would probably merit something much, _much_ worse. Just thinking about it made the thick black hairs on Avdantil's arms stand up.

"The Metro attack is big news," Natela continued. "Everyone wants to know what happened on the train. I just made sure I controlled the narrative."

"Ah. You talked to your friends at the Kalium City Mirror. Didn't you?"

When they first became partners, Natela mentioned she was a part time columnist for a local newspaper. That wasn't even atypical for the organization. Lots of people in Team Sigma went about their daily lives until their Beta assigned a new mission. For instance, Avdantil did IT work for a small company. His best friend worked a sales job and battled competitively against prospective Gym Leaders. Another girl he knew worked for the Kinzo Secret Police.

At first, he thought working with a journalist would be fun and exciting…and then he read some of her work. All Natela ever wrote were small periodicals about the Kinzo Pokémon League. She wasn't even important enough for the paper to include her photo on her articles. Why their Alpha thought someone like Natela would be essential for Team Sigma was beyond him.

"Uh-huh. That's exactly what I did." Natela took a moment to stuff her face with more fries. She hadn't touched her nuggets yet, but she slapped Avdantil's hand when he tried to steal one. "Naturally, they were so interested in what I had to say that they—"

"Comrade Makatsaria! It's so good to see you again!" Both Gammas nearly jumped out of their seats. They hadn't expected anyone to come by and talk to them, but the Lodge Owner was doing exactly that. "How are you this fine evening?"

Natela gave a fake and far from convincing smile in return. "I'm fine, Zed. Thank you for asking." Her eyes shot up toward Zed's face, warning him that invading her personal space for too long would have consequences. "Did you need something?"

"Oh, no! I just wanted to ask if your interview was with Kalium City News or Kinzo National News."

"Kalium City," Natela answered calmly. "Channel 8."

"That's what I was hoping. A friend of mine was also on that train. She talked to the same station."

"She…she did…?" Natela's face began to sweat and her face turned one shade paler. Beneath the table, she jiggled her leg so much that Avdantil could feel it. "Do I know your friend?"

Zed chuckled and waved one of his hands dismissively. "I don't think so, but I'm glad to hear the both of you talked to the same station. It means I can keep the TV on Channel 8 and support you both! Why, I—oh dear."

At the front desk, a green-haired man in a black coat tapped his foot impatiently. His eyes were hidden beneath a pair of sunglasses, but he was obviously glaring.

"Do excuse me, would you? I need to help that gentleman get checked in. I'll talk to you later, comrade. Have a good evening!"

"You too, Zed. Прощай." Natela kept the fake smile until Zed wasn't watching her anymore. As soon as he was out of range, her expression contorted into one of disgust. She clutched her shake in both hands and took one long, hearty slurp. "I can't stand that man. When people act that nice; they're usually up to something."

Advantil shook his head when he heard that, deciding it would be best to keep his comments to himself. He didn't have anything against Zed Levin. He seemed like a genuinely decent fellow: a good comrade to the core. This sort of hospitality was a rarity in Avdantil's corner of the country. Each time he came to south Kinzo, it felt like a holiday.

When the TV came on, most of the dining area turned quiet. Most of the people staying at the Kalium Lodge were either on that train or had to find another way to get to the city. Either way, this impacted all of them.

 **"…to protect our eyewitness's identity. Thank you again for agreeing to this interview, Comrade X."**

 **The camera panned out to show a dark room with no illumination other than the sunlight bleeding through the closed blinds. A wingback chair was positioned just in front of the window. Only enough light came through to show that its upholstery was a rich maroon color and the eyewitness was a chubby female with frizzy blonde hair.**

 **"I had to come forward, Galyna. The public needs to know what happened."**

Avdantil bit his lip, just to make sure he didn't burst out laughing. He knew that was Natela in the chair, but the Kalium City News had done more than black out her face and dim the room. They digitally altered her voice to sound slower and lower: like a dimwitted giant in a crappy Saturday morning cartoon.

 **The reporter, Galyna, turned to face the camera. She was a conservatively attractive forty-something with bottle-blonde hair and a little too much makeup on her face: pretty, but nowhere close to gorgeous. "I wholeheartedly agree. This attack impacted more than only Kalium City. Almost everyone in the country uses the Metro as their main mode of transportation. In fact…"**

 **The interview room disappeared to show a complete map of Kinzo. The map darkened and the town names faded away. In their place, a network of bright green Metro routes appeared. Galyna touched Kalium City's location in the south. When she did that, every route connected to the city disappeared.**

 **"Until further notice, Kalium City is under lockdown. No one can leave or enter the city without police clearance. Our KSP contact stated that the lockdown will remain in effect until the bombers are identified and apprehended."**

When Avdantil was nervous, his body tended to sweat: first beneath his arms and between his thighs. Then it moved to his neck, back, palms, and everywhere else. By this point, his nerves were so shot that his ass felt like a peat bog. He nudged Natela, trying to get her to move closer so he could whisper in her ear. "Is that true? They're actually putting us under lockdown!?"

"Ssssssh…" Natela patted his arm, completely discrediting his worries. "Don't worry about it."

"How can I not?!" Although Avdantil was whispering, he was still noisy enough to make a fat pink-haired kid and her equally nuggetty brother turn their heads in his direction from a nearby table. He faked a smile and waved at them, hoping they'd leave him alone. "That reporter—"

" _Relax_ , Avdantil. Who do you think that station's KSP contact is?"

"You're not with the—oh. _Ooooooooh_ …"

 **"But you actually managed to see one of the bombers. Didn't you, comrade?"**

 **Natela's head nodded in confirmation, her face still blacked out. "Yes. The other people on my train said there were two of them—a man and a girl—but I only saw the girl. She was blonde, young, and pretty.** ** _Very_** **pretty."**

Avdantil snorted. "I guess that rules you out." Natela jabbed his side with her elbow and gave him a dirty look.

 **"When the bomb went off, the train stopped moving and crashed onto the tracks. She walked around, saying that this was just a test for Team Sigma and larger, more dangerous tests would be conducted later. As people started to panic, she tried to move into the next car to repeat her message.**

 **"I didn't want her to scare the other passengers and one of my Pokémon was out. I challenged her to a battle and she accepted. But Galyna…I don't know** ** _what_** **that horrid thing was. It looked like a ghost coming out of a stone and…and…"**

 **"Ssssssh. There there."**

 **"I was** ** _so scared_** **…"**

When Natela's altered voice said "so scared," it dropped another octave. Up to that point, Avdantil had been able to contain his laughter. This was the breaking point: something too hilarious that he couldn't hold it in any longer. He ended up back-swallowing his milkshake and nearly choked on it.

Natela wasn't even paying attention to the interview anymore. Something caught her attention from the far end of the lobby. "Look! She's coming down the stairs."

Sure enough, Cynthia was making her way from the second floor to the ground level. She didn't stop by the dining area. Instead, she followed a big beefy woman in army surplus garb toward the Battle Rooms. An Eevee happily scampered behind her, eager to let off some steam before bed.

Natela reached for Bee-Bee's Poké Ball and poised herself to get up. She was ready to abandon her meal and confront those women, but Avdantil grabbed her wrist and forced her to sit still. "What are you doing!? She's right there! Just get your Pokémon out and we'll—"

"I don't have my Pokémon."

"What are you talking about?!"

Avdantil understood why Natela was so upset. Cynthia and her little pals defeated her Pokémon on the train. Mr. Purrfect and Bee-Bee both loved to battle, but they were even sorer losers than their trainer. Natela didn't take defeats and failures very well. If things didn't go her way, she'd demand a do-over or whine until Avdantil pulled her out of her mess. "Nurse Yulia confiscated my team. I can't help you."

As much as Natela wanted to fight, she realized she couldn't take on two trainers at once. She sat down. Her eyes locked onto Avdantil's belt, as if to confirm his Pokémon truly were gone. Once she realized he was telling the truth, her expression soured even further. It was almost as if she thought he'd done this on purpose, just to spite her. "Why am I not surprised? You're the cruelest Pokémon trainer I've ever met."

Natela was entitled to her own opinions, but Avdantil disagreed. By Ferrum Town standards, he was an absolute sweetheart. It was a violent, unforgiving world up north. With all the death, disease, and despair; only a fool would leave himself vulnerable enough to get attached. For the most part, Avdantil had successfully kept his heart cold. His starter, Bidoofus, was his only weakness…not that he'd _ever_ let his hometown comrades know.

"I still need to get them back, Nat. Your feelings don't change anything."

"Yes they do! You treat your Pokémon like garbage! Getting confiscated by Nurse Yulia is probably the best thing that's ever happened to them!"

Natela's comment didn't surprise Avdantil, but it certainly pissed him off. She probably thought Bidoofus and the others would be adopted out by some sad sap like her: a stupid bitch who babied their Pokémon until they turned complacent. It wasn't realistic for a place like Kinzo.

Most people would rather catch something new than take another trainer's damaged goods. Pokémon like Avdantil's typically ended up as bait for death matches. At least if he had them back, he could issue commands and give them some semblance of a fighting chance.

They missed their window of opportunity to confront Cynthia. She and her tomboy friend found a Battle Room and shut the door.

"That may be, but it isn't what's best for our squad. My stats may take a heavier hit than yours, Natela, but we still get graded as a pair. Without any Pokémon, I'm just _muda_." Waste. "And If I tell Aldous that you refused to help me when I needed it most; do you think he'll be happy with you?"

Natela shivered and, for once, put her damn drink down. "No. No, I suppose he wouldn't…" She placed her hands to her face and rubbed them around, trying to massage out her stress lines. Avdantil wondered just how much fast food grease she'd just smeared in. "I hate it when you're right…"


	36. Pissy Blissey

**Author's Note: If any of my readers are fluent in Russian, please message me. On occasion, we'll start seeing more dialogue in Kinzonian (Russian). I would love to work with somebody who actually knows the language rather than going in blindly with Google Translate!**

 **In exchange, I'd be more than happy to write you a supplemental chapter or one-shot story of your choice…or proofread one of your works. Let me know if you're interested via PM!**

 **…**

"Attention, residents and visitors to Kalium City. Attention. The sun will set at precisely 18:45 KST. If you haven't begun to head home, please do so at this time. Remember: the curfew exists to protect you, not to police you!"

Those black vans had always given Natela the creeps. The windows were tinted, but she could see the silhouettes of big strong men on the other side: eager to get out of the vehicle and drag disobedient people inside. If they apprehended a Kinzonian national, they might let them off with a warning. Repeat offenders and foreigners were more likely to turn up a few days later, floating somewhere in the harbor or stinking up a dumpster.

It was strange what a person could get used to. The Kinzonian government first enforced that curfew when she was little. Adults scrambled to get nocturnal permits, but it was almost impossible to get one. You either had to know someone with government connections or find out which official was most amenable to bribes or blackmail. That could backfire. If you were wrong, the consequences were dire; perhaps even worse than sneaking out.

By the time she was old enough to train Pokémon, the general consensus among Kinzonians was that staying out after dark was overrated. They'd rather be safe than sorry.

As the van passed by, the soft spot between Natela's thumb and index finger felt like it had been flash-frozen in liquid nitrogen. That was her body's way of showing fear. If something startled her—like a wild Pokémon jumping into the road—the sensation would be so bad that the skin would flake and crack.

"That's an hour from now," she muttered, giving Avdantil a dark look. "Let me level with you. We either need to finish this before curfew or we'll have bigger things to worry about than disappointing Aldous. I just hope the KSP doesn't find us…"

Avdantil wasn't too concerned about that. Aldous had an in with the secret police. If a KSP operative pulled them in for questioning, he could get them out. He'd done it before, though it had cost his Gammas dearly. One of Avdantil's hands still hurt from where Aldous pulled his fingers back until they cracked. "I used to break curfew all the time. The key is to wear dark clothes and—"

"Ahem!" Natela cleared her throat and gestured toward her outfit: a lavender coat dress with a huge bow over her breasts. To hide her hair and face, she'd paired this purple nightmare with even more purple: big tinted glasses and a tacky floral scarf. Even her gloves and stockings were purple. She looked like an awkward middle schooler playing dress-up in her mother's old clothes.

"That's on you, Nat. It's not like I held you at knifepoint and told you to dress like a Skuntank." Natela's lips made a tight angry O, but she didn't say anything. "This isn't the first time I've had to steal my Pokémon back. A guy in my hometown reported me to the authorities when my Stunky died."

"I don't _care_ , Avdantil. Just tell me what you need me to do!" He could tell Natela was nervous. Chances were that spot on her hand had turned scaly and sore. She'd pick at it for days, possibly even until it bled.

Once the van was out of sight, both Gammas ducked into a back alley and positioned themselves closer to the Pokémon Center. "This is your hometown, right? How well do you know the head nurse?"

"Yulia Karenina?" Natela's nose wrinkled in disgust. "I don't know her _that_ well, nor do I want to." Avdantil didn't have to ask why. He knew Natela well enough by now to know she'd tell him anyway. "She smokes big stinky cigars and has the meanest Blissey I've ever met. And if that wasn't scary enough, I've seen her deadlift an Abomasnow! Someone like that could snap me in two!"

Avdantil bit back a chuckle when he heard that. "I never pegged you as the sort of girl who would be afraid of buff women."

"I'm not! But she's gross, okay? She smells like cigars and calls me _sugar_ all the time. I don't feel comfortable in that Pokémon Center!"

' _Boo hoo, Natela_ ,' Avdantil thought sarcastically, rolling his eyes. ' _That's probably more action than you get anywhere else. What you do with your hand and a romance novel doesn't count._ '

"…and then there's the time she—hey. Are you even listening to me? Do you want your Bidoof back or not?!"

"Huh? Yes, yes. Of course I do!" It was just old habit. When his partner got on a tirade like this, he just tended to tune her out for his own sanity's sake.

Avdantil turned his head back toward the Pokémon Center, wondering how many nurses were going to remain on call after dark. Since Pokémon Centers were considered essential to the nation, they were one of the few institutions permitted to remain open 24/7. Night-shift nurses could stay out past curfew and day-shift nurses could be forgiven if they were a few minutes late heading home.

Six junior nurses in pastel pink uniforms left the building, each one turning around long enough to wave goodbye to a massive woman with short blue hair and a blue-and-cream uniform. She vaguely resembled a human Snorlax. "до свидания!"

Since only a handful of people had permission to be out after dark, there wasn't much point in keeping a full night staff. They'd probably be looking at anywhere from one to three junior nurses…once they arrived. Considering the Metro was under lockdown; that could take a while.

Natela opened up her purse and pulled out two things: her tube of cotton candy-flavored lip gloss and a Poké Ball. She pushed the button and her spoiled Purrloin came out. The purple cat looked up at her and began to purr, rubbing against her thick leg. "Okay…here's how we're gonna do this…"

"Whoa, whoa. Hold up. Since when are _you_ coming up with the plan?"

Natela blinked a couple of times and tilted her head to one side. "Oh, _I'm_ sorry Avdantil! I had this preconceived notion that you actually wanted my assistance with this! If you'd rather I go back to the Trainers Lodge and wait for you, I can always—"

"Вы сука. Вы это знаете, да?" An angry snort left Natela's nose as she turned away and made like she planned to return to the Lodge. Avdantil reached over, touching his partner's shoulder. "Look. I'm sorry, alright? I care about the other Pokémon, but Bidoofus is really special to me."

From the way Natela looked at him, he could tell she didn't believe him. At least he got her to turn around to face him again.

"The wild Pokémon around Ferrum Town are too dangerous for new trainers to catch. When I turned ten, my dad saved up and bought Bidoofus from a shelter. He didn't want me to be the only kid my age without a starter. I'm only hard on him because I want to make sure some idiot doesn't kill him in combat."

"That wouldn't even be a risk if you stopped doing death matches!" Natela snapped. "Listen. Here's what we're doing. I'll create a diversion so you can get inside the building. Mr. Purrfect will do his 'poor hurt kitty' routine, which should distract the other nurses. That's when you should sneak into the back and get your Pokémon. Got it?"

"Yeah. Got it."

Natela smirked and held out her hand so they could shake on it. "Good luck, Avdantil. You're no good to me without any Pokémon." When she pulled her hand away and walked off, Avdantil noticed she'd left something in his hand: a bobby pin.

He watched his partner walk over to Nurse Yulia and heard her greet the woman, but he wasn't going to stick around. They were quickly losing daylight.

"Psssst. Mr. Purrfect." The Purrloin stopped grooming himself long enough to scowl at Avdantil. "Come on, comrade. Let's get this shit show over with."

…

The only junior nurse working the night shift was an older, pockmarked man with enough craters in his face to rival the moon…or Natela. Avdantil was pretty sure that beneath the uniform, the nurse's neck and back would be in equally bad condition. If he didn't have to worry about Bidoofus or the curfew; he probably would have struck a conversation with this guy just to get a better look at him.

Natela said he was disgusting for thinking that sort of thing was attractive, but scars were neat: especially surgical scars and healed burns. Avdantil's personal favorites were Lichtenburg figures: beautiful vine-like patterns that appeared on the human body when subjected to high levels of electricity.

Radiation burns intrigued him, too. Katya, Ferrum Town's head nurse, used to work at the Wolfram Town Pokémon Center. Her body was a grotesque abomination: scarred and skeletal on the top, but bloated and weepy from the waist down. Some parts had withered up and stayed as pink as a Mew. Compared to that, this nurse's acne scars were pedestrian, if not downright boring.

At least he didn't look like every other wannabe supermodel in this vain, vapid city. He hated Kalium so much.

"Good evening, comrade," the nurse murmured in an unenthusiastic monotone. He didn't even bother to put down his magazine. "У вас есть разрешение выходить поздно?"

"да."

"Должен ли я исцелить вашего покемонов? Это то, что вы хотите?"

Before Avdantil could tell the nurse to heal his Pokémon—not that he currently had any—Mr. Purrfect decided it was time to jump into action. The Purrloin wriggled out of Avdantil's arms, limped around a bit, and collapsed in the middle of the floor. "Mreeeeewwwww…"

There weren't that many trainers in the building at night: just a potbellied trucker with a big beard, a trio of ten-year-olds wearing different restaurant uniforms, and a female doctor. They all stopped what they were doing to watch the cat roll around helplessly.

"What's wrong with that Purrloin?" Avdantil heard one of the kids whisper.

"I don't know," another one replied. "It looks healthy enough. Do you think he's faking it?"

"Don't be stupid! Why would it do that?"

Once Mr. Purrfect realized all eyes were on him, he showed his belly to the kids and tried his best to do a Skitty-like mew. Although Natela had done a great job taking care of his coat and teeth, he wasn't exactly a young Pokémon anymore. Mewls were a thing of the past. For this old fellow, all he could muster were long, raspy yowls. "Mreeeeeeeeh?"

The noise seemed to scare the kids. One of them had thought about petting the belly, but was now second-guessing that decision.

While Mr. Purrfect had everyone distracted, Avdantil slipped off in the direction of the men's bathroom. Either nobody saw him or they didn't care. When a grumpy-looking Blissey in a nurse hat picked up a tray and made her way back to the restricted area, Avdantil quietly followed her. The dumb thing didn't even notice.

This wasn't the first time a nurse confiscated his Pokémon, nor was it the first time Avdantil stole them back. He knew from personal experience that most Pokémon Centers followed the same floor plan.

The lobby area consisted of one to six healing panels, each of which was operated by a junior nurse in a pink uniform. A PC terminal to register Pokémon and items was available typically to the far right. Bathrooms and a changing room were available to the far left. Some buildings had a designated training area on the second floor, but those were the only public areas anyone would have access to.

The restricted areas were designated for nurses and their Pokémon only. Behind those doors was a long corridor with a break room, a couple of operating theaters, a storage closet, the nurses' lockers, and the head nurse's office. The last of those was typically marked with a blue doorframe and/or blue tile just outside the entrance. Kalium City proved to be no exception. The door was painted baby blue.

One of the nurses left a coat in the break room, so Avdantil quickly put it on. It was a bit tight in the shoulders, but he could hopefully fool any medical Pokémon if they saw him from behind.

When he made his way back to the head nurse's door, he squatted down and pulled the bobby pin out of his back pocket. Picking a lock could take a while, so he hoped—wait. No way! Just to make sure he wasn't imagining things, Avdantil twisted the knob and bit back a laugh when he realized it wasn't even locked. ' _Lucky!_ '

The office was cramped, stuffy, and reeked of cigar smoke and fried electronics. Some of the walls had posters on them, but it was too dark to make out the words or shapes. It didn't matter, anyway. Avdantil's attention was drawn more to the two dozen Poké Balls on Nurse Yulia's desk.

' _Shit! I don't have enough time to sort through these!_ '

The most he could do was take every scuffed, dented, or banged up ball and hope he grabbed the right one. All his Pokémon were in Poké Balls, so anything at Great Ball level or higher could be tossed aside. So, too, could any Poké Balls that appeared to be in good condition. That narrowed it down to eight balls. Just to be on the safe side, Avdantil stuffed as many as he could into the pockets of the coat, into his hoodie, and—

"Blissssseeeeeeey?"

According to the Pokémon Encyclopedia; Blisseys were supposed to be happy, nurturing, and indiscriminately friendly. This one was none of those things. It was bad enough that an unauthorized human made it to her side of the Pokémon Center, but he had the audacity to steal Pokémon that had already been rescued from bad trainers. She wasn't going to allow that. Not on her watch!

"Hey, don't sass me. You let me back here."

"Bliss?" She squinted her beady black eyes at Avdantil. If only Natela could see this. This thing made the exact same bitch face!

"That's right. I followed you. You didn't even lock this door, Blissey. This is your fault."

"Blissey Bliss!" Blissey tried to slap Avdantil, but her nubby pink arm was too short. How on earth were these things supposed to be good nurses? They probably couldn't even clean their own faces and asses!

Once the Pokémon realized Avdantil was too far away to punch, Blissey rammed her fat body against him. Avdantil was pinned to the wall, unable to move. Each time he tried, Blissey pushed down harder and tried her best to look threatening. "Dooooown, Blissey. Down, girl!"

Blisseys could sense people's feelings through their fur. That was how they could tell who was sad, sick, or lonely. Avdantil hoped she knew how he felt: scared of having to potentially deal with the police, desperate to get his damn Bidoof back, and pissed off beyond belief that this pink puffball had the audacity to get in his way. He wasn't worried about Natela at all. She'd probably fuck off as soon as Nurse Yulia went back inside.

Blissey didn't budge. All she did was reach in her pouch and grin evilly at Avdantil. "Blisseeeey."

"No! You put that back right now!" Not only did Avdantil hate raw eggs, but he recognized what Blissey was trying to do.

If he ate her egg, he'd be screwed. People reportedly felt happier and more generous after consuming a cooked one. If eaten raw, the effects intensified. Some people even became addicted to the eggs because nothing else in life could make them that happy so quickly. It was like winning the lottery, holding your firstborn child, restoring your family's honor, and feeling like you saved the planet all at once.

Blissey pushed against him, her soft pink body turning warm. Avdantil felt something wet and warm around his stomach. The egg cracked. The Pokémon's arm reached toward the egg, got some of the whites and yolk in hand, and brushed it against his lips. As tempting as it was to tell Blissey to fuck off, Avdantil knew she'd shove the food in his mouth the moment he opened his mouth.

"Blisssssss…"

He could hear footsteps coming down the hall. Shit! This wasn't how he wanted things to go! Realizing he had no time left for shenanigans, Avdantil butted his head into Blissey's face and called out the first Pokémon he could grab. When he pushed the button, he had no way of knowing whether or not it was one of his.

"Doo doof?"

Avdantil's heart stopped for a moment. He could almost cry; he was so happy to have his stupid Bidoof back! "Bidoofus!" he called out, narrowly missing an attempted yolk-smear. "I've never been more glad to see you! Are you alright!?"

"Doof!"

Bidoofus was tickled beyond belief that his trainer wasn't yelling at him or calling him worthless. Avdantil could be mean and scary when he was in a bad mood; but Bidoofus had been his Pokémon for almost ten years. He remembered what Avdantil was like as a little kid and lived for the days like this one.

It almost felt like old times: a lonely boy and his beloved Bidoof! Maybe this was a sign that things would be better from now on!

Yet as grateful as Bidoofus felt, he also felt a bit confused. He knew what a Pokémon Center looked like, but this wasn't the floor where he normally went for checkups. The last time a nurse took him this far back, he'd nearly been torn in half by one of the wild Pokémon up north. They had to keep him in observation for half a week just to make sure he recovered from the surgery. But he wasn't badly hurt before they came here. That meant—

' _Ooooooh nooooo. Avdantil, nooooo…_ '

This meant that Avdantil went back here to steal Poké Balls again. Bidoofus's eyes welled up with tears. "Bidoof?" Did another nurse report him? Did that mean the other Pokémon were going to be left behind? How much trouble was his human in?

"GET HER OFF ME, BIDOOFUS! USE ROLLOUT!" Avdantil shut his eyes and mouth. He could feel Blissey smear more of that slippery substance on his mouth. He spat at her, but it didn't deter her.

He almost had to wonder if Bidoofus knew what the egg did. If so, would he be an asshole and wait until Avdantil ate the yolk because it was a guarantee he'd be friendlier?

Luckily, Bidoofus was every bit as obedient as he was stupidly optimistic. The wooly beaver rolled himself up into a tight ball and charged at Blissey with all he had. He hit her like a bowling ball, toppling her over. The pink Pokémon landed on her rump and shrieked.

There was no point in being discrete anymore. People were going to hear that. Avdantil scooped Bidoofus into his arms and ran down the hall as fast as he could. It didn't even matter that he kept dropping the other Poké Balls. The pockmarked nurse, Nurse Yulia, and the other trainers were gaining on him. It was only a matter of time before they saw him!

The back door was locked. A cheap wooden door could be kicked and broken, but this thing was solid metal: like part of a bunker. "SHIT! FUCK! GODDAMMIT! NO!" Avdantil tried to kick the door down again, each time growing increasingly terrified.

"Blissey? Blissey!" Nurse Yulia called out. "Где ты!? Скажите что-то!"

"BLISSEEEEEEEEEEEY!" Blissey screamed at the top of her lungs, trying to get her trainer and the others to come to her aid. At the very least, she wanted them to stop the thief. "BLISS! BLISS BLISSEY!" The sound of footsteps stopped long enough for Blissey to scream again. Out of the corner of his eye, Avdantil saw her shadow point in the direction he ran.

His heart was in his throat and every vein in his face felt like it was going to pop. His blood pressure skyrocketed, but the door refused to budge. "It's no use! We're—hey! What are you doing?!"

Bidoofs had some of the strongest teeth in the world. If he could use them to help his boy escape, a little temporary mouth pain was nothing. Bidoofus chomped down on the lock and broke it apart. The door was wide open now!

Avdantil's egg-covered face went slack-jawed in disbelief. "Damn, Bidoofus! I didn't know you could do that! Nice going, comrade!" Bidoofus grinned at him and wriggled his fluffy bottom. He didn't have a tail, but he liked to wag that area when he was happy anyway. "Come on, buddy. Let's get outta here!"


	37. The Kinzonian Riviera

**Author's Note: I do apologize if I go a bit overboard with all the food descriptions. If anything else, writing these chapters has made me a much more frequent visitor to my city's local international grocery store. I had no idea some of these Russian snacks were so delicious! I'd never thought to try them before!**

 **I also wanted to give a special shout-out to my lovely friend Julia (Seiauton) who happily translated the tourists' dialog into German for me.**

 **…**

Cyrus had been right. A Pokémon battle just before bed was exactly what his Eevee needed to sleep. As soon as the Pokémon's body touched Cynthia's comforter, he curled into a tight ball and didn't budge. Occasionally, Cynthia heard the faint whistling sound of Eevee snoring through his nose.

She eased herself into bed, trying not to wake the little Pokémon up. As tempting as it was to watch another documentary on the Kinzonian Heritage Channel, she didn't have the energy for it. She could barely keep her eyes open.

Her Eevee made a nest close to her shoulder and didn't move. So long as she didn't breathe on him or try to pet him in her sleep, he'd stay put and give her no trouble. Once she was comfortable, she nestled part of her head in the Pokémon's scruff. One of the last things she registered before falling asleep was a warm and tiny tongue licking her cheek.

Most of her worries were resolved now. Cyrus was no longer on death's door. He'd be out of the hospital by the end of the week. Nurse Yulia confiscated all of Avdantil's Pokémon, so Guano Lisa hadn't die in vain. Most of her friends from Plumbum City made it safely to Kalium City. Now she even had confirmation that Campanella was alright.

Each one of those worries had been an emotional millstone on her heart. Tonight was the first peaceful sleep she'd had since the bombing, not to mention the first dream that didn't involve Cyrus dying from medical complications.

Instead, she dreamed about last New Year's Eve. Eager to celebrate her victory against the Castelia City Gym Leader, her parents asked around to see if they could find a place that served Sinnoh-style tonkatsu.

As they ate, her father told her about the ruins he and her mother planned to study in Undella Bay. Nobody they knew had a Dive HM, so their next best option involved taking scuba diving lessons and waiting for the regional government to green-light the expedition. Unova had plenty of amazing ruins, but the Abyssal Ruins were all that remained of a dead civilization long thought to be a myth. Only a handful of historians in the world could decipher the hieroglyphs on the building's walls, but the Shironas met someone at a local university.

After dinner, the family explored Mode Street until it was time for the fireworks. Her mother had tried to find an art museum, but she misread the map and got them lost. Instead, they watched the fireworks from a seedy little café named Café Sonata. On the café's stage, a foreign musician sang something in ancient Kalosian. Other than the occasional boom of exploding gunpowder, the music was the only sound in the entire venue.

People were mesmerized by the past just as much as they were in awe of the future. Cynthia approached the singer with a tip, eager to tell him what a great job he did…but then she felt a warm paw touch her cheek.

"Vee?" her Eevee chuffed. Most Eevees she met had high-pitched, coo-like voices. Hers was deeper, even a bit husky. "Vee Eevee."

"No, Eevee," Cynthia murmured, rolling over in the bed. She burrowed her face under the covers, trying to make it impossible for the Pokémon to touch her a second time. "Five more minutes."

But Eevee wasn't having any of it. He bit the top of the comforter and gently peeled it away like the skin of a Nanab Berry. As soon as Cyrus's Eevee woke up and saw what Cynthia's Eevee was doing, he decided to join in on the "fun" and wriggled around in Cynthia's lap.

"You little stinkers…" Cynthia sat up and stretched. A big, long yawn escaped her lips. "I haven't slept that well since—oh no..."

The numbers on the analog clock flashed on and off, deceptively insisting that it was only 7:55 AM. As much as Cynthia wished that were true, it was too bright outside and too loud downstairs for her to believe it. She rubbed her eyes, trying to get some of the crusty sleep out. ' _I guess we lost power last night. I know it's later than 8:00, but what time is it?_ '

Analog clocks were easy to reset. All she needed to do was get the correct time from another clock, her watch, or the TV. Zed installed a wall clock close to the bathroom, but it was too far away from the bed to read without getting up. It was so cold in the room that she didn't want to leave the bed, but it couldn't be helped.

As she tried to get up, Cyrus's Eevee pushed his paws down in a desperate attempt to make his body too heavy for Cynthia to move. "That's not gonna work on me, mister. You're wasting your time." She scooped the Eevee up, trying her best not to laugh when his claws grabbed the blanket and yanked it completely off the bed. When she put the Pokémon on the cold floor, he sulked.

To cheer the Eevee up and show there were no hard feelings, she scratched behind his ear and reached in her bag to give him a treat. That caught her Eevee's attention, as well as Spiritomb and Golbat's. When all four Pokémon were distracted by their snack, Cynthia turned on the TV to find out what time it was.

It was 11:38 AM.

Not only had she slept for twelve straight hours, but she'd completely missed the morning visiting hours at the hospital. There wouldn't be time to stop by in the afternoon, either. She'd already promised Eric and Isaac that she'd join them for their day trip to the beach. They'd probably be out there until curfew.

All she could think about was poor Cyrus sitting by himself in that run-down hospital room, aimlessly watching public access TV because there was nothing else to do. He'd probably already finished those primers she picked up at the library.

' _Poor guy. He probably thought I flaked…not that I'd blame him if he did. I literally told him I'd visit every day until he got out!_ ' Cynthia seldom swore, but a "shit" still slipped out of her lips as she paced around the room. As she did so, the Eevees did figure 8s around her legs and nearly knocked her over. ' _Should I call and let him know I can't come by today? I told him he could call me, but he's never actually done it. And he's been really lethargic. Chances are I'd be interrupting a nap if I picked up the phone._ '

She chewed on her thumbnail until she'd gnawed off a thin crescent moon. ' _Should I even tell him what I'm doing today? Would it depress him? What if—_ '

"Hey! Sleeping Beauty!" Eric rapped his knuckles on the door. The noise startled her, only because she didn't expect it. Neither did her Eevee. He jumped about a foot in the air. Every hair on his body stood up until he resembled a brown Cottonee. "You gonna be ready soon? We're all packed up and ready to go!"

"Sorry, Eric! I just need ten more minutes!"

Most of that would involve brushing her hair. Freshening up wouldn't take long, nor would throwing together an outfit. Like most other girls she knew, she usually took her time picking something out. Cynthia didn't have that luxury today. Instead, she reached for the first shirt in her dresser and matched them with some black jeans. She hurriedly put herself together and scrambled out the door.

When she rushed down the stairs, she could see Eric and his friends waiting as a group on the ground floor. In fact, a whole crowd was down there. She knew she'd only be going to the beach with Isaac's gang; but the Beridze siblings, Zed, Campanella, and several others were huddled around something and talking excitedly. As she approached, she could finally tell what all the hubbub was about.

"These are the best damn cookies I've ever had, ma'am!" Campanella called out, laughing. "It's awful sweet of you to share!"

Renata's friendly voice floated over the crowd as a gentle chuckle. "Oh, it's nothing. The recipe makes so many, and there's no way he'll eat all of these. I don't even know if the poor dear has a sweet tooth! Things like baked goods are best shared among friends. Wouldn't you agree?"

"Yeah!" Tamari piped up happily. Her Dunsparce insistently bumped his head into her leg, making pitiful noises the whole time. "No, Dunderhead. Those are _cookies_ , not poffins!" He wiggled his tiny wings insistently and whined again. "I mean it! They're people food! You'd just choke on it."

When the Pokémon let out a dejected whine, Cynthia tried to hold in a laugh. It ended up coming out, anyway. Renata heard her and happily waved her over. "Good morning, Cynthia! Would you like to try a Kinzonian varenye cookie?"

Considering she missed Zed's breakfast run, Cynthia didn't even hesitate to nod her head. "I could smell them from the top of the stairs. They look good."

"Good's an understatement. They're _amazing_!" Tamari insisted. She cupped the sides of her mouth with her hands and loudly whispered something in Cynthia's ear. "Don't tell my brother, but Renata's a million times better at making desserts than he is."

Cynthia would have promised to keep her mouth shut, but she didn't have to. Grigol was still close enough to be within earshot and heard the whole thing. Everyone did. His already pink cheeks turned red as Eric laughed and heartily thumped his back in reassurance.

"Relax, Grigol." Eric teased. "I'm sure your food doesn't _completely_ suck!" The poor boy covered his rosy face with his hands and groaned.

Cynthia put the cookie in her mouth and instantly fell in love with the taste. She'd had shortbread before, but never this flavor of jam. It was a cool taste—like mint—but more woody. "This is delicious! What all's in it?"

Renata seemed nothing short of tickled that Cynthia liked the snack. "Oh, nothing special: just traditional shortbread ingredients and varenye. Well, that and a Chansey egg, which Grigol graciously provided. They have amazing health benefits."

"I've heard that! This is actually my first time trying a Chansey egg." Her grandmother never cooked with them because she thought their slightly sweet taste was weird and off-putting. Cynthia could understand not wanting to use them in something savory like an omelet or quiche, but this was the best cookie she'd ever had. "I never would have thought to bake cookies with one."

The old woman's smile was warm and proud: clearly flattered to receive so much praise for her hard work and effort. "Back when my children were little, I'd cook with Chansey eggs whenever I could. Not only do they put you in a better mood, but you recover a little faster when you eat them. I figured our poor friend in the hospital could use a little pick-me-up."

"Oh! These are for Cyrus?" Cynthia felt her heart flutter. That was so very sweet! "I'm so glad he has a friend like you, Renata. He could really use one right now."

"Yes, well…" Renata closed the cookie tin and stuffed it into her bag. "I was hoping to pay him a visit today and deliver these in person. Have you had a chance to speak with his family about adding me as an approved visitor?"

"No, I…" Now that she was more awake, Cynthia didn't feel guilty about oversleeping anymore. It wasn't her fault that the power went off and her clock lost track of the time. This, however, she felt bad about.

Since the bombing, Renata Cordova had taken it upon herself to be everyone's guardian angel. She showed Cynthia how to report Avdantil and made sure her Pokémon were healed while she handled the paperwork. Even after that, she'd occasionally stopped by Cynthia's room to see if she was feeling lonely.

That friendliness wasn't reserved for only her, either. Yesterday, Grigol was studying for a Pokémon Medicine exam in the lobby. Renata sat on the other side of the couch and quizzed him until he felt confident enough to take the virtual test. More than once, Cynthia saw the old lady slip extra change into the washing machines and dryers so it wouldn't cost as much for the next person.

And now she'd made these special cookies just for Cyrus.

Cynthia felt like a horrible friend. She'd been so caught up in her own problems that she never stopped to think that Cyrus's other friends would want to see him too. "I'm so sorry. I've been so tired lately that I forgot you asked me that."

"That's alright. Just give me the number and I'll ask the Akagis myself."

"You're sure you want to do that?"

Cynthia was hesitant to give the number to Renata until she'd at least warned her about Cyrus's parents. When she called the Akagis to notify them of Cyrus's injury, she was trembling all over. Cyrus had nothing good to say about Alexander or Nichole. There was no telling what sort of cruel things they'd say to a total stranger—a _Kinzonian_ stranger, no less.

"Yes, I am." Renata sounded confident: like absolutely nothing could go wrong. Cynthia admired that optimism. "You aren't the only person in this Lodge who's worried about Cyrus, dear."

"I know that, but…" Not that far away, Cynthia heard Eric impatiently tap one of his massive clodhopper feet against the hardwood floor. The longer this went on, the more likely they were to leave without her.

Cynthia touched Renata's shoulder and pulled her a bit closer, hoping to whisper something in her ear. "Before I give you his home phone number, there's something you need to know. Cyrus doesn't come from a happy home and his parents aren't nice people. I've never met Mrs. Akagi, but I've heard things."

She'd never forgive Mrs. Akagi for cutting off Cyrus's debit card. What sort of lunatic mother thought leaving her child broke in a foreign country was a _good_ idea? What purpose did it even serve?!

And on top of that, she taken other important things from her son. If Cynthia's mother had done even half the stuff Mrs. Akagi had done to Cyrus, Cynthia would have cut her out of her life ages ago. The fact Cyrus hadn't done so meant that some part of him probably still (beyond all logic and reason) loved her. That made it even worse. It meant he'd keep trying to impress Mrs. Akagi, only to feel crushing defeat each and every time he failed to deliver.

"And Mr. Akagi has a temper. He yells."

When Cynthia called, Mr. Akagi raised his voice a couple of times. Although he restrained himself before his shouts became too loud, Cynthia couldn't shake the feeling he was making a conscious effort to hold back for her sake. Somehow, she doubted he extended that same courtesy to Cyrus.

Renata tilted her head a bit, both eyebrows raised. "Oh? Is that all?" Cynthia opened her mouth, ready to tell her more, but Renata simply shrugged her shoulders. "Some men bark, honey. It's not that big of a deal."

Maybe Renata didn't understand, or perhaps she thought herself brave enough to handle this. Cynthia still didn't feel comfortable enough to surrender that number. Mr. Akagi may have apologized for raising his voice to her, but he'd still done it. That conversation was enough to paint a very vivid picture of Cyrus's home life, and what Cynthia saw made her very uncomfortable.

She wished she could rescue him and take him home with her. He'd love her family. Her grandmother in particular would love him back. It was just a shame the world didn't work that way.

Yet Renata was undeterred. She smirked, held out her hand, and refused to lower her arm. "I grew up in north Kinzo—during the revolution, no less. How much do you know about that?"

"Um…"

It felt like there was a miniature Poliwag in Cynthia's throat, jumping up and making it hard to swallow. The truth was she knew very little about Kinzonian history. What little she'd picked up through television had interested her, but her knowledge was woefully limited.

Back at the airport, the woman she'd chatted with told her that part of Kinzo used to be a penal colony. In Plumbum City, Officer Kuznetsov told her that Kinzo's first Premier was a violent, paranoid man and this was why they had a curfew. That was pretty much all she knew.

"I don't know that much, Renata. I've just watched bits and pieces from the Heritage Channel."

No part of that seemed to surprise the old lady. Without even skipping a beat, Renata jumped into what she was about to say. "I'll spare you the details, but Kinzo's had at least five military coups since the turn of the century. The worst and first successful one was Comrade Vasiliev in '55."

That name kept coming up. Officer Kuznetsov talked about him, too. The Kinzonian Heritage Channel mentioned him briefly before delving into the tale of Rurik the Wrathful, the King of Kalos, and the Ultimate Weapon. And now Renata was bringing him up, too.

"You want to talk about a man who could yell? _Vasiliev_ could yell. No offense to Cyrus's father, but I'm pretty sure he's nothing by comparison. He doesn't scare me."

In that context, Cyrus's dad probably wasn't anything to worry about. Cynthia hesitantly scribbled down the number and handed the note to Renata. "Okay. If you say so. But don't say I didn't warn you."

Renata pocketed the note and was about to say something, but Eric's voice blasted over her. "Cynthiaaaaa! Come on! We're wasting daylight!"

Renata chuckled and gave the girl a hearty pat on the back. "I'm not worried. He can't be that much older than my son; and I don't let Aldo talk to me like that, either. Have fun at the harbor, dear. I'll be fine." She looked toward the group of Kanto trainers and tossed them each one more cookie. "Boys? You'll take good care of Cynthia, won't you?"

Lulu's cookie accidentally went down the front of her coat and Eric completely missed his. The only one who successfully caught the treat was Isaac. He gave his handsomest smile to Renata and took off his cap just long enough to properly bow. "Yes, ma'am! Of course we will!"

Eric rolled his eyes and thumped the back of Isaac's head with his hat. "Kinzonians don't bow, dumbass."

"Ha ha. Right. What was I thinking? Ahem!" Isaac cleared his throat, straightened up his posture, and gave Renata a mock salute instead. "Tell Zed we'll be back by curfew! Cynthia, are you ready? The rental bikes are outside."

"Yeah!" She grabbed her bag and hurried out. "Thanks again for inviting me, guys."

"Hey, no problem! We wanted you to come!" Isaac's smile was infectious. The more he did it, the easier she found it to smile, too. "Ever since Cyrus got hurt, you've done nothing but go back and forth from the hospital. We figured you could use a distraction, at least for one afternoon."

They truly were a nice group of people. Cynthia couldn't help but wonder if she'd run into other people as generous as Isaac's gang if she did a Kanto journey after this. If so, it was very tempting to mark that as her next region to challenge. "I really do appreciate it."

Lulu also smiled. Even though there were dark bags under her eyes and other signs that she was severely sleep deprived, she seemed energized and enthusiastic about the beach trip. She held the door for everyone, expecting them to go through it before anyone else complained about the cold air. She also fidgeted a bit to free the cookie trapped between her lemon yellow coat and sweatshirt. Once it was out, she nearly swallowed it whole.

When it was Cynthia's turn to go through the door, she couldn't help but notice there were only two bikes. Upon closer inspection, she realized they were doubles. "I'm guessing two-seaters were cheaper? I've never ridden one of these."

Isaac laughed and positioned himself on one of the bikes. "You've got nothing to worry about. Two-seaters are easy! Eric thought we could each take a girl and race to the—"

"Dibs on Cynthia!" Eric called out, cackling when he saw the dejected look on his friend's face.

By now, Cynthia knew that Isaac had a crush on her. Not only had he been rather obvious about it, but Eric teased him about it every time Cynthia was in earshot. As flattering as it was to know a boy liked her, she didn't return Isaac's feelings. Sure, he was kind of cute and very nice; but she barely knew him. On top of that, he was almost four years older than her. For an adult, that wasn't a big deal. For teenagers, it meant they probably didn't have any shared interests outside of traveling and Pokémon battles.

That was probably why she didn't object to riding with Eric. Well…that and he had bigger, longer legs. She wanted to win the race. As she climbed onto the back of the bike, she tightly grasped the back handles and prepared to pedal her legs off. "Psssst. Eric. How fast do you pedal?"

"Like the wind—provided it's downhill!" For a brief moment, Eric waited for the other two to get ready on their bike. "Let me know when you're ready to go, losers!" he barked. "We're gonna leave you in our dust!"

Isaac grumbled something under his breath, but Lulu was a good sport about the whole thing. She made sure she wasn't going to fall and gave her racing partner the thumbs up to show she was good to go. Isaac grabbed the handles of his bike, poised himself to get ready for the race, and took a deep breath. "Alright. The Great Riviera Race begins in five…four…three…two—"

"NOW!" Eric roared and began pushing the bike pedals with all his might. Cynthia followed suit, trying to give him any extra power and stamina. As portly as Eric was, he'd proven to be a surprising powerhouse at this sport. True to his word, Isaac and Lulu were left behind in no time at all.

Cynthia's ponytail flapped behind her like a streamer. When she was little, her grandmother bought her a tricycle and put tassels on the handles. She used to pedal as fast as she could, just to get them to flap around. Her hair would be a tangled mess by the time this was over, but it would totally be worth it.

In less than a minute, she and Eric were going so fast that she couldn't read the street names. All of the concrete buildings seemed to blend together into an adrenaline-infused speed trip through Kalium City. Pedestrians hurriedly rushed into stores and onto benches to avoid being hit. Some stray Pokémon froze in terror, which meant Eric had to zigzag around them. It was a miracle he didn't hit one.

Eventually, the buildings began to look a bit grungier. There were dark streaks on the concrete and the painted bits were chipped and flaked. Some windows fogged up from the humidity. Cynthia had been to enough oceanfront towns to know this had little to do with the age or upkeep of the buildings. Sea air could age them like nothing else. That paint could have been as recent as six months ago. It wouldn't have made any difference.

After nearly half an hour of racing to the waterfront, they reached their destination: a periwinkle blue boardwalk covered in Kinzonian propaganda posters. A large wooden arch announced the location: **Калиум Ривьера**. Just beneath it in smaller font was the international translation: _Kalium Riviera_. The part beneath it, " **Наслаждайся пляжем!** " had no translation.

"This is it!" Cynthia called out, bumping the top of her forehead against Eric's back. "Any sign of—"

"Aaaaaaaagh! You're too fast!" Isaac slowly pedaled his way to the finish line, gasping for air the entire time. His face was nearly as red as his hair. When he put the kickstand down for the bike, he nearly fell off in the process.

At least Lulu looked alright, but that was because she propped her legs up and let Isaac do all the pedaling. "Good job, Eric. I had no idea you were such a speed demon."

"Are you kidding, Lulu? It might as well be my middle name!"

As much as Eric wanted to gloat and flaunt his victory over the other team, Cynthia didn't join in. It would only be a fair fight if everyone participated, but Lulu hadn't. She bumped Eric's fist in solidarity, but felt a bit embarrassed when her stomach loudly growled. "I guess I burned through Renata's cookie during the ride…"

"Is that seriously all you've had today?" Isaac asked. "That won't do! Let's see if there's any snack stands on the boardwalk. I'll treat you."

"You don't have to—"

"You're gonna treat me, too, right?" Eric batted his eyes and swished one of his thick hands. "You know, because we beat you?" Isaac grumbled something, but reached for his wallet all the same. "Aww! That's so sweet! Isn't that sweet, Cynthia?"

Sometimes, Cynthia was convinced Eric took pleasure in shutting down Isaac's advances. Every time he tried to do something suave—like buy her a snack, ride on the same bike, and so on—Eric threw himself into the scene and made things awkward. Cynthia wasn't sure why he was doing it, but she appreciated it all the same.

"It sure is," she teased, a little smirk coming out on her lips. "You're such a good friend, Isaac." That poor boy looked completely crestfallen!

As Isaac dejectedly searched for a place that served hot drinks and good-looking snacks, Cynthia was on the lookout for a place that served blini. It didn't appear to be an option anywhere, which wasn't too surprising. They were a breakfast food and it was early afternoon. The names of some of the other snacks being advertised weren't familiar, either. If she wanted to eat something, she'd probably have to ask the vendor what it was first. "I'm only seeing Kinzonian snacks. Have you tried any of these?"

"Not really," Isaac confessed. "We tend to stock up at international grocery stores to see if we can find something familiar. I don't know about Eric, but I know I feel less homesick when I can eat a little Kantonian food."

Cynthia could understand that. During her Unova trip, she'd looked for a few restaurants that purported to serve Sinnohan cuisine. It wasn't as good as it was at home, but there was still something comforting about eating it. She wasn't going to limit herself, though. Every place had its fair share of good dishes. Unova had the best ice cream she'd ever tasted. Kinzo had the best pancakes. If she wanted to eat Sinnohan food all the time, she'd never have left home.

"I don't think you're gonna find that here, pal," Eric grumbled. "Hey, Lulu?"

Lulu had been walking ahead of the group, seemingly lost in her own world. It wasn't until Eric called out her name that she realized she was part of this conversation. Until that moment, she probably thought she'd get ditched and be left to her own devices until it was time to go. She stopped, turned around, and stuffed her hands deep into the pockets of her oversized coat. "Yeah?"

"You tried some Kinzonian stuff, right?"

"Only those little mini-bagel things. One of the shops close to the Trainers Lodge sells them in big bags." Lulu squinted and peeked at the stores, looking to see if she could find what she was talking about: either to point them out or to buy some for herself. "I forgot what they're called. Have you tried those, Cynthia?"

Cynthia shook her head. "No, but they sound good. We'll probably want something with a little protein in it, though." With the amount of activity they were doing, they'd burn through carbohydrates way too quickly.

…

The group finally decided to have a junk food lunch inside the boardwalk's only indoor restaurant. It was more an excuse to sit down inside a warm building than anything else. Nothing on the menu looked familiar, but at least they had an impressive display window showcasing all the different kinds of breads and pastries they made.

Isaac paid for everyone's meal rather than simply for the victors. He figured it would be easier for the waiter to put everything on one check. Lulu offered to pay him back, but Isaac declined. "It's going to be cheap," he insisted. "Just let me have some of your bagel things when we get back to the Lodge and we'll call it even."

Eric ended up ordering the biggest, sweetest-looking thing in the display case: a mountain of hazelnut-sized fried donut balls covered in honey and dried fruit. Apparently, this was _çäkçäk_. Once he saw the size of the dish, he offered to share it with the rest of the table. Cynthia tried more than a few of them. They were quite addictive.

Lulu tried to describe the Kinzonian bread rings she'd eaten before to the waiter. They weren't on the menu, but at least she knew they were called _sushki_ now. In the end, she declined to order anything other than a drink. She'd just make a full meal off Eric's sugary abomination.

Isaac took his time to order and finally decided on a _vatrushka_ : some kind of sweet bread bowl with a soft cheese and fruit in the middle. Cynthia ended up ordering the same thing because the cheese would keep her fuller for longer. It wasn't as delicious as Eric's _çäkçäk_ , but still fairly good.

The waiter recommended trying the house _kissel_ as a drink: a sweet fruit juice thickened with potato starch. Everyone got a different berry flavor so they could taste and compare. Their only request was that it be brought out hot instead of cold.

Cynthia resisted the urge to slurp her Cheri kissel down with one sip. The thickened texture of the drink made its flavor even richer than standard juice. It lingered in her mouth. "How's the Sitrus one taste, Lulu?"

"Not bad." The girl pulled out a thick notebook and began jotting something down. "Okay, so I know that today's a vacation day for all of us; but I still want to go over Jet's stats again and see if we can find a way for Eric to beat him."

Eric took a huge gulp of his Mago kissel and gave Lulu a dirty look. "For real? We're doing this today? You couldn't leave that thing back at the Lodge?"

For once, Isaac wasn't the butt of the group's jokes. Lulu wasn't looking at _his_ stat sheet. This was enough to embolden him at least enough to rib Eric a bit. It was long overdue. "I don't see why she would, Eric…considering how hard a time you had with Jet yesterday. Have you challenged him yet, Cynthia?"

"Hm?" She'd been paying more attention to Lulu's notebook. There were lists, tables, diagrams, and some parts that were near impossible to make out from the opposite side of the table. "Ah…no. I've been too caught up with taking care of Cyrus to even think about facing Jet." And every time she thought of Jet, her blood pressure climbed a bit. He'd seriously pissed her off. Kicking his ass in the arena would be quite gratifying. "Is he as tough as Simon?"

She somehow doubted it. Simon Morozov was one of the best strategists she'd ever faced in a Pokémon Gym. Sure, he was the first in the circuit; but he threw enough curveballs and dirty tricks to be an A-Grade challenge.

When Cynthia asked that question, Isaac still had some Pomeg kissel in his mouth. He swallowed it and laughed a little. "I didn't think so." It wasn't lost on Cynthia that Eric was giving his friend the evil eye. "My Baltoy packs quite a wallop, you know?"

"And you had a major type advantage," Lulu added. "On top of that, those items I told you to pick up at the Department Store certainly made things easier. The X-Defense made Jacob almost immune to Fighting moves, and the three X-Attacks paired with the held Twisted Spoon? It was almost overkill! In fact, while I'm thinking about it—Cynthia? Here. Take this."

Lulu reached over the table and placed a damaged piece of silverware in Cynthia's hands. "I know this doesn't look like much, but let Spiritomb hold this when you battle Jet. It will boost its Psychic moves by an additional 20%."

"Why do you carry that sort of shit around with you?" Eric grumbled. "Weird girl!"

"Look, Eric. Sometimes I like to let my Abra sit with me when we go out to eat. If she gets bored, she'll bend a spoon or two until the food arrives. You're just butthurt that Mr. Skitty and Ziggy couldn't even land a hit…which they _would_ have, if you'd actually followed my game plan."

"Screw your plan, Lulu! Nobody in their right mind is going to read and memorize ten pages of notes just to fight a Gym Leader!" When Eric realized that people at the other tables were turning around to look at him, his face turned pink. He cleared his throat and tried to act like nothing was wrong. "Ahem! I'll just go back to the Department Store, look at the Psychic TMs, and see if there's something Mr. Skitty can learn."

Lulu's smile turned a bit wicked. "Good luck with that."

"Skittys can learn Psychic moves from TMs!" Eric hissed defensively.

"I'm not refuting that. They can." A bit of a cruel giggle came out with her words. "Your options are Calm Mind, Rest, and Dream Eater. None of those are going to help you with Jet." She pushed the notebook back over to him, grinning. "Read and learn, Eric. It's the only way you'll ever win."

Eric grumbled a few rude remarks under his breath, but did as he was told. As he read over the notes, cursing and swearing the whole time, Lulu's smile turned friendlier and back toward Cynthia. "I'd love to evaluate your team later, if you're up for it. I don't like to battle personally, but I love to compile strategy plans."

"Maybe later," Cynthia offered, playing with her straw. "I'm not exactly a newbie to this."

"Right." Lulu nodded her head. "Isaac said you challenged another league before."

"I've challenged two leagues, actually! Hold on. I want to show you something." Cynthia put her vatrushka down just long enough to pull her badge case out of her bag. The first page was covered in a complete set of eight Sinnoh badges. When she turned to the second page, eight Unova badges sparkled in the light. On the third page, her one and only Kinzo badge looked so lonely. There were seven empty spaces, all eager to be filled.

"Whoa!" Isaac's eyes were huge. "I knew you'd been to other regions. I had no idea you actually _completed_ them! That's really impressive! You're probably the best trainer at this table, maybe even the whole restaurant."

Her face felt a bit warm from the praise. "That's nice of you to say, but I don't think that's true. Lots of trainers—"

"How many years did it take you to get that many badges?"

"Not that many," she admitted. "I'm only fifteen, so—"

"Wait…" She could see the color drain on Isaac's face. He stared at her as though she'd just grown a second head. "You're fifteen?"

As Cynthia nodded her head in confirmation, she heard a constipated laugh squeak out of Eric's mouth. His face was borscht red and he could barely contain his giggles. Realizing both girls were looking at him, he placed a drink menu in front of his face and burst out laughing. "Nice going, Isaac!" he jeered. "You've been creeping on a kid this whole time!"

"Dude, I didn't know!" Isaac looked positively mortified. "I'm so sorry! I…I thought you were my age! Honest!"

Cynthia kind of felt bad for Isaac. This whole time, he'd been flirting and carrying on with a clear interest in her. Isaac knew Cyrus was fifteen, so Cynthia had simply assumed he'd known she was fifteen, too. Apparently not. "It's okay. At least you know now, right?"

Isaac's face was buried in his hands. "Yeah, but I really owe you an apology. I must have come across as a major creep…"

"I wouldn't exactly say _that_." By this point, Cynthia felt a tiny bit bad about teasing Isaac. It was clear this revelation left him feeling quite embarrassed. "I'll only think it's creepy if you keep doing it."

"No way! You're a really cool girl, but that ship's sailed! I'd love to still hang out as friends, if that's okay, but—"

"Sure! I don't have any problems with that." Cynthia cleared her throat and held out her hand so they could shake on it. "Truce?"

Much to her relief, Isaac shook her hand.

…

After lunch, the group decided to explore the boardwalk and see what other shops were out there. Once they did a full walkthrough, they could take the stairs down to the waterfront and look at the beach. Considering the past few days had covered Kalium City in snow and ice, no one packed a bathing suit. They all knew it was way too cold to do much more than look around.

The boardwalk turned out to be a hodgepodge of carnival games and snack stands, but Cynthia also spotted an arcade and a battle arena. She briefly wondered if that was the location of the Kalium City Gym, but couldn't find the Kinzo Pokémon League logo anywhere. Besides, her friends had already challenged Jet. Isaac or Eric probably would have pointed it out if that was his gym.

"I might want to hit that arcade later," Lulu remarked. "I wonder if they have some of the same games the Mauville Game Corner does. I'm feeling a little homesick."

"Mauville?" Cynthia wanted to make sure she heard Lulu correctly. Mauville City was all the way in Hoenn, not Kanto! "I thought you said you live in Celadon City."

"I currently do," Lulu told her, "but my family moves a lot. I don't mind it, so long as there's a game corner or an arcade nearby. Does Sinnoh have something like that?"

"We do! It's in Veilstone City." Every time she went to Veilstone, Cynthia checked to see if the department store had any Rage Candy Bars. If she found any, she'd buy a box and surprise Professor Rowan with them the next time she visited Sandgem Town. "I never went in there, though. Gambling isn't really my thing. Was there a certain game you wanted to look for?"

Lulu shrugged her narrow shoulders, but she kept an upbeat skip in her step as she marched along. "I like Voltorb Flip more than the slot machines because it relies more on probability than luck. Did you know that a Kinzonian designed that game? When the company went bankrupt, they buried all the unused copies in a landfill and moved to Cuprum City."

So far, Cynthia had met two Kinzonians who called Cuprum City home: the lady at the airport who had family in Floaroma Town, and that cute little girl with the Cleffa. Both Titania and Ana seemed very proud of their city and insisted it was a fun place to live. From what they'd told her, Cuprum City sounded like a perfect place for a retired arcade game developer to live and look for new work. "I'm guessing you'll want to meet your idol if the boys make it that far?"

"I…" Lulu flustered with her words and ended up having to clear her throat. "I never said the Voltorb Flip guy was my idol! I just like the game!"

Eric sniggered a bit at Lulu's expense: clearly pleased that he and Mr. Skitty were no longer the butt of a joke. He and Isaac pushed their rental bikes along the boardwalk, paying heed to the signs telling them not to ride them. "So, uh…do you think anyone's gonna be wearing a bathing suit down there?"

Isaac gave him a look. "I doubt it, dude. It's way too cold."

"Ever heard of the Beartic Club, Isaac? Some crazy people like to skinny-dip in cold water. I bet a frigid place like Kinzo has plenty of them. Why, for all we know, this could be a nude beach!"

"You don't want that," Lulu murmured. Judging from the grave expression on the older girl's haggard face, Cynthia had a sneaking suspicion she was saying this from first-hand experience. "I did a foundation survey in Kalos a couple of years ago. Cyllage City wanted to know if their ground was stable enough to support a new Pokémon Gym. _They_ had a nude beach."

Cynthia was trying her best to hold in a laugh. The nudity wasn't the part kicking her into a giggle fit. It was Lulu's somber, deadpan delivery that made her suspect this was going to be comedy gold. "How did that go?"

"Well, _I_ didn't want to go, but the guy I was traveling with did. I tried to warn him. _It won't be filled with supermodels,_ I said. _Normal people go to beaches too._ But did he listen to me? No!

"We ended up going, and the first thing we saw…he mistook for a giant Ditto. There was this big, bald, flabby, sunburned old man lying on a towel next to his wife. Her boobs looked like a pair of deflated water balloons and she was so hairy. Like, really, _really_ hairy. Then we saw an entire parade of naked little kids squirting each other with water guns. One of them had a heart-shaped strawberry birthmark on his butt and I could never get that mental image out of my head."

The boys both looked like their brains were breaking. So much for dreams of beautiful women sunbathing on the cold Kalium City shores! Lulu seemed to revel in destroying their dreams. She took a deep breath through her nose and lifted her head so her chin could jut out. Her hands patted the sides of her bony hips and she looked all too proud to be a killjoy.

"That's all that was out there, folks: families. Lots and lots and _lots_ of families. So the next time you think a nude beach sounds sexy, let me remind you that it's not just pretty people who go out there. You're ten times more likely to see somebody's fat grandpa, wooly grandma, or little brother's birthmark-covered butt." Eric kept waiting for Lulu to take back what she said, but she never did.

Cynthia leaned over the edge of the boardwalk, just to confirm people were at least clad in bathing suits. She was pretty sure they were, but that had certainly grossed her out. Just as she expected, most people were either fully clothed or wearing wetsuits. Only a few people were sunbathing, but they had a Fire Pokémon nearby so they didn't freeze.

Aside from being cold, it was just a normal beach. A group of girls were even playing volleyball with a Hitmonchan and a very excited Meowth. When they realized a group of tourists were looking at them, they smiled and waved. "Hey!" a pretty auburn-haired girl called out to Cynthia. "Do you and your friends want to join our game?"

Before she could politely decline, Eric and Isaac bolted ahead with big, stupid grins on their faces. "Sure! I love volleyball!" Isaac insisted. "It's my favorite sport in my hometown."

"I'm more partial to dodgeball," Eric snorted, but it was clear he was gearing up to play too.

Although the women didn't exactly tell the boys to scram, it was clear that invitation had been girls-only. They continued to smile, but it was forced and a bit annoyed. Less than a minute into the new game, the Hitmonchan served the ball so hard that it brained Eric in the face and knocked him into the sand.

Lulu rolled her eyes and snorted out a short, indignant sigh. "Well, it looks like our guy friends have been captivated by seashore sirens in booty shorts. We might as well leave them to their fates and come back for them later." She pulled a couple of large beach towels and collapsible chairs out of her tote bag. "Honestly, I'm worn out from the ride over here. Let's decompress for a bit and enjoy the view, shall we?"

' _You didn't even pedal,_ ' Cynthia thought as she opened the cooler. Before their expedition, Isaac purchased enough Kantonian snacks for the entire group to share: cold sodas, canned lemonade, seaweed flavored potato chips, an assortment of _arare_ , and what looked like red bean _daifuku_. Just curious, she checked to see if a Rage Candy Bar was in there. It wasn't, but that was fine. She was fairly sure those were a Johto snack, anyway.

The view was spectacular. Off in the distance, she could see the lights of another nearby city—or perhaps more of Kalium City. The sky was overcast and hazy: a cool bluish gray with serene, dark blue waters. A gentle breeze moved the small waves against the bone white sand. There were plenty of tourists; but judging from how much Kinzonian Cynthia heard in nearby conversations, most of them were probably local.

Some brave souls in wetsuits went into the water, but most were more content to eat snacks and watch the waves from their makeshift campsites. Kids played fetch with their Pokémon. Teenagers swapped stories and playful jokes. A group of older women leaned back in their chairs and caught up on their reading.

In seemingly no time at all, Lulu dozed off in her chair and began to lightly snore. Maybe she really was tired.

About five meters away, right where the tide waves sank into the damp earth, stood a short and scrawny-looking man with a wild head of dark teal curls. He'd hiked up his trouser legs so the only thing the waves touched were his insulated rain boots. Every couple of minutes, he cast a worn-out looking rod into the water. Any children playing at the beach steered clear of that area for fear of being smacked by bait on a fishing lure.

"Jetzt komm schon," he groaned, scratching the back of his head. "Sei nicht schüchtern." Every once in a while, the rod twitched and moved around: proof that he'd caught a Pokémon. Sometimes he'd lift in time to see the smiling face of a hungry Magikarp staring back at him. Other times he'd wait too long and the bait would be gone. Either way, he wasn't happy. "Scheiße!"

Not too far away, one of the book-reading women put her novel down and waved at the man. "Was ist los, Rudolf?" Her voice indicated some type of western accent, but certainly not Kinzonian or Kalosian. "Beißen die Fische nicht?"

"Das ist es nicht, Sisi!" The man, Rudolf, replied. He looked so distressed. "Es gibt nichts außer Karpador auf diesem scheiß Strand! Als Ernst fischen gegangen ist hat er ein—"

"Barschwa gefangen. Ja, so sagt er." By this point, the woman looked just as done with this nonsense as Rudolf was with fishing. "Und du weißt genauso gut wie ich dass dein Bruder ein dicker, fetter Lügner ist. Er hat das Ding vermutlich auf dem Fischmarkt gefangen, nur damit er sieht wie du dir die Eier abfrierst. Wie ein Vollidiot."

"Was für eine Angel benutzt du?" another woman piped up, throwing herself into the conversation. "Ich hab vorher eine Profiangel genommen und—"

"Es ist die gleiche scheiß Angel die ich die letzten 10 Jahre benutzt hab!" Rudolf threw the rod to the ground, looking positively dejected. "Ich glaub je öfter du die Angel nimmst, desto weniger Fische fängst du. Ich krieg bloß diese beknackten, wertlosen Karpador!"

One of the women urged the frustrated man to come eat sandwiches with the rest of their group. "Du kannst es immer später nochmal probieren, Rudolf. Iss was zu Mittag und beruhig dich."

"Ja, ja…" Dejected and defeated, the man gave his rod one last farewell kick before joining his group. "Ich komme schon…"

Thinking that the man might change his mind and want his rod back, Cynthia made her way over to the tide pool where he'd been attempting to fish and grabbed the rod before the wind carried it off. When she picked it up and began to walk back, she realized something was on the other end: something large.

"Sir? Um…I don't know if you can understand me or not, but you caught something! It's…hn…kind of heavy, actually!"

The foreigners looked up from their sandwiches. Cynthia repeated what she said, expecting the man to get up and help her. Instead, he kept eating his snack. One of the women gestured at Cynthia, trying to get her male friend to get up and help her. Rudolf just shook his head and took another bite of his food.

' _Fine! I'll do it myself, then! Some help you are!_ ' Cynthia tugged on the rod, but the rod tugged back more aggressively than before. Whatever it was, it was far too big to be a Magikarp! She dug her feet into the sand and yanked the stick, doing all she could to reel the Pokémon in, but it was much too heavy.

For nearly five minutes, she played tug of war with the lure, wondering what was on the other side. Each time she thought she gained ground, the Pokémon pulled her closer to the water. After what felt like an hour, something splashed out of the tide pool: a bright red pincer half the size of a human head, all tangled up in fishing lure.

The fisherman and his friends gasped. They all reached for a Poké Ball: eager to see what this monstrosity would turn out to be. Whatever it was, there was going to be a battle.

Cynthia also reached for the liveliest Poké Ball in her party: Eevee. As much as he hated the cold, he loved to battle. "Steady," she told him. "Be prepared for anything. I have no idea what this thing's gonna be." Every hair on Eevee's body stood up. He crouched and hissed, claws drawn.

When the water surface broke again, a hideous Crawdaunt stomped toward the shore. Its eyes were cloudy, save for its pinprick-thin pupils and the bloodshot spots below. Several healed over pieces of broken shell were on its body: pink rather than brick red. Either this thing was old or it had seen a lifetime of abuse. Either way, it wasn't happy to see people and snapped the lure in two.

"Okay, Eevee!" Cynthia called out. "Let's hit it with a Quick Attack and—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow down, kid! You don't want to battle that Crawdaunt!"

Cynthia wasn't quite sure who was talking to her, so she looked around. A gorgeous blonde woman in a rhinestone-studded wetsuit hurried over to her, only to pant and catch her breath once she made it over there. She'd dyed pieces of her hair blue and pink to make herself resemble a human Milotic. Whoever this woman was, all Cynthia could think was that Eric and Isaac would be jealous they missed an opportunity to see her. Although there were other pretty people at the beach, this was the only one who looked like an actual model.

"I don't understand. Why don't I want to battle it?"

"For starters?" the woman huffed between breaths. "He isn't wild. I don't recommend fighting him unless you've beaten the Kalium Gym Leader." Once she caught her breath, she held out a hand for Cynthia to shake. Her other hand was preoccupied with getting that nasty-looking Crawdaunt back in his Net Ball. "I'm Kai: the Hydrargyrum City Gym Leader. And this?" She held up the ball. "This is Ægir. He got loose when I was signing autographs a moment ago. Thanks for finding him!"

Cynthia had seen Crawdaunts before, but never one that looked that rough. "Is he sick? He didn't exactly look like a normal Crawdaunt when he came out of the water."

Aside from looking sick, Ægir had also looked angrier than any Pokémon she'd ever encountered. If Eevee had actually attacked it, that thing probably would have attempted to cut him in half. The very thought made her shiver.

"Well..." Kai sighed. "Ægir has a condition that makes him more aggressive, but I'm doing what I can for him. The government's aware. So...do you have that Potassium Badge or not? If you do..." She struck a pose and let loose a playful laugh. "I'd be more than happy to battle you right here, right now! How about it, comrade? Want to get your Mercury Badge early? Hmmm?"

If she'd already beaten Jet, Cynthia would have jumped at the chance. Kai was probably a significant bit stronger—possibly too strong for Spiritomb and Eevee to face alone—but it would still be fun to challenge her. She seemed nice enough: maybe a bit airheaded and overly playful, but nice. "I'd love to, but I only have a Lead Badge. I haven't even battled Jet yet."

"Aww! That's disappointing!" Although Kai let loose a groan, she didn't sound genuinely upset. She was just putting on a show to be dramatic. "I was all revved up and ready to go, too! Oh well. Here." She pulled a business card out of her bag and handed it to Cynthia. "Take this."

Cynthia looked for Kai's name, but it didn't appear anywhere on the card. Instead, it appeared to be for a water park/casino called Hurricane's Landing. "I'm guessing your gym is in this water park?"

"Да! Вот именно!" When she saw the confused look on the girl's face, Kai cleared her throat and went back to talking in the international language. "Sorry! Uh…there's an island in the middle of the wave pool. That's where I keep my arena. Once you beat Jet and you're ready to face me, tell my gym trainers that you're the girl who found my Crawdaunt. They'll let you pass to come right at me."

"That's so nice of you. Thanks!"

"Don't sweat it! It's my little way of saying thanks for finding Ægir. I'm sure you have a mischief-making problem child in your Pokémon party, too. But we love 'em anyway; don't we?"

Oh, absolutely! Gible had torn up every piece of furniture in her bedroom at least twice. And Spiritomb was such a bastard to the Plumbum City Pokémon Center staff that they refused to treat it until Cynthia could prove it wasn't wild anymore. And then there was Cyrus's persistently cuddly Eevee and his super-aggressive Golbat. The only Pokémon in their current posse who behaved almost all the time was her Eevee!

But before she could say anything else to Kai, the woman was already heading back to a large group of people with cameras.

…

The ride to the beach had been fast, easy, and speedy…but only because it was downhill. The trip back to the Trainers Lodge was almost entirely uphill, not to mention quiet.

On the ride over, Cynthia had ridden with Eric. Considering just how embarrassed Isaac obviously still was from earlier, she decided to cut the poor guy a little slack and offered to ride back with him. He went out of his way to act like everything was fine and mumbled profusely about how hot the volleyball players were, but Cynthia wasn't paying him much mind. He was probably just trying to save face.

She could hear Lulu and Eric pant and wheeze from exhaustion on their bike. To her surprise, Isaac had far more stamina than his friends. Slow and steady won the race, she supposed.

They took frequent stops, mostly so everyone could catch their breath and slow down their racing hearts. Between the four of them, they drank every single drink in the cooler and even stopped by a couple of vending machines to buy more. Cynthia preferred the latter because the vending machines offered hot options.

She was glad that everyone had a great time. Lulu and her Abra spent a lazy afternoon taking naps, building sand castles, and eating snacks. The boys spent almost the entire afternoon playing volleyball and throwing sand at each other. After Kai left, Cynthia spent a little time walking up and down the shore with Eevee in search of shells. She found a few, but most of them were broken or chipped: not really worthy of taking back to the Lodge and carrying in her bag.

It was a shame they couldn't stay at the beach long enough to watch the sunset touch the ocean, but she was afraid they wouldn't make it back to the Lodge in time. By the time they made it to the correct street, the black vans announcing the curfew time were on patrol. The group hurried inside and left the rental bikes outside for Isaac to return tomorrow morning.

They were just in time for dinner: some sort of Hoennese noodle soup. The only problem was they'd expected to grab a bite to eat on the way back and therefore didn't tell Zed what to order. Cynthia's stomach growled again, wanting more than just the cheesy bread pastry she'd had at lunch.

"It's okay," Isaac groaned. "I think Eric has some stuff in his locker."

"That's _mine_ , asshole!" Eric snapped. "Eat your own damn food!"

"Now, now. That's enough." Lulu grabbed both boys by the ear and started dragging them off. She was a tiny, petite thing; but she could pinch as tight as a Pinsir. "Thanks again for joining us today, Cynthia. We had a blast." Cynthia could hear Isaac and Eric chime in that they agreed, but they were more concerned with their poor ears. All the way down the hall, she could hear a chorus of _ow, ow, ow_.

Hoping that Zed might have some leftover food from a guest who no-showed; Cynthia looked for him in the common area. She found him in the middle of a poker game with Campanella and some of his older guests. One of those guests, a very tall green-haired man with a handsome face, called Zed on his bluff and took over the entire game. Everyone else folded.

A few tables over, she could see the Beridze siblings challenging each other to a game of checkers. Grigol wasn't giving it too much of his attention, but he probably should have. Seven moves in, Tamari jumped all across the board and won the game.

It would be nice to hang out with some of her other friends, but taking a shower and going to sleep sounded even nicer. Cynthia was so tired that she could feel her legs twitching. Considering none of the Poké Balls in her bag were moving, she was pretty sure Eevee and Spiritomb were tired, too.

She placed her hand to the railing and began her ascent up the stairs. ' _I'll call Cyrus's room at the hospital,_ ' she decided. ' _There's no way he'll be asleep just yet. It's not that late. I'll tell him why I didn't show up and—'_

"Hey! Cynthia!" She stopped just outside her door, turned around, and saw Isaac was on the nearest landing with a big bag of snacks. She covered her mouth to hold in a laugh. He couldn't be serious! "There's no point in going to bed hungry. Catch!"

"Wait! I'm a bad shot. I'm not gonna be able to—"

But he threw the bag anyway. An entire rain shower of Kantonian chips, corn puffs, rice crackers, and soda flew out of the bag and landed everywhere. Cynthia heard a gasp somewhere from the common area and she couldn't hold it in. She fell over and laughed, trying to grab as many snacks as she could.

That redheaded boy looked completely sure of himself. He grinned impishly, head held high. "Have a good night!" he called out. "We're going to check out an arcade tomorrow. If you'd like to come with us—"

"Sure!" Cynthia agreed, holding up her bag to show her appreciation. "Thanks again, Isaac." She began unlocking the door, trying her best not to drop the bag. "I'll see you tomorrow for—huh?"

Of all the things she expected to see in her room, a roommate certainly wasn't it. "Cyrus!? What are you doing here!?"


	38. Honorary Babushka

When Cyrus was first learning how to read, he memorized the appearance of certain words before he mastered letters. If he saw that specific combination, it got grouped together as one mental image. If a word he recognized appeared on a billboard or somewhere in a grocery store, he'd point it out to his mother.

For a short while, he duped Nichole into thinking he could read. Although she'd initially been proud, the charade was broken when she asked him to spell the word and he couldn't do it. She was disappointed and he was mortified. At least he learned his lesson on that: for western languages, learn the alphabet first.

The Kinzonian alphabet shared some letters with the international alphabet, but there were some others Cyrus had to learn: like a backwards R, and another letter that looked like a stylized K staring at its reflection in a mirror. The first book went into detail on each letter: both capital and lowercase, as well as how to pronounce it.

That book probably only took an hour or so to complete with all exercises patiently laid out. Cyrus did every exercise four times, took a nap, and checked again to see if he still remembered the material. He could either do that or watch crappy public access TV. At least attempting to learn the language made him feel productive.

The other primers were laid out in a way he found incredibly useful. Each time he flipped to a new page, the left would be written in international and the right would be in Kinzonian. The words were color coded so he could match them and get a basic grasp on how sentences were structured. This wouldn't be enough to turn him fluent in a few days, but it was at least a start.

He was so engrossed in his studies that he completely skipped breakfast. The warm room melted the gelatin into a green, goopy mess. Next to it were a piece of stale, room-temperature toast with some kind of drippy fruit preserve on top and a knockoff sports drink the same unappetizingly artificial shade of blue as window cleaner.

At least he felt well enough to use the bathroom by himself. When he got up to do that, he caught sight of the time and realized Cynthia never showed up for a morning visit. That was disappointing, but there was no need to dwell on it.

' _She's probably gearing up to challenge the Gym Leader…not that there's any sense of urgency to do that. It's not like we can leave Kalium City anytime soon. Nobody's going anywhere until the police catch the bombers._ '

When he felt better, he'd report Team Sigma to the local police. That would make him feel far better than any surgery or antibiotics ever could. Chances were Cynthia and anyone else they knew who saw Team Sigma on the train would want to do the same; but all of that had to wait.

The earliest he could leave Kalium General Hospital was Friday, but something could always go wrong. He could have a bad reaction to the antibiotics. One of his surgical wounds could fester. Or maybe the nurses would make up some bullshit reason to keep him and charge his parents more money.

At least Cynthia gave him enough books to keep him occupied. He reached for the next primer (a book which focused entirely on how to give directions) and opened it. With each lesson, he found himself relying a little less on the translated page. Some words were starting to look familiar. He'd be able to pick them out in newspapers and billboards, just like he did when he was little.

"Ahem." A nurse leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms. Her sharp eyes went toward the tray beside Cyrus's bed and then back up at him. When he made eye contact with her, she glared. "You still haven't eaten that?"

"I wasn't hungry," Cyrus grumbled, going back to his book. The words and pronunciations for north, east, south, west, left, right, forward, and backwards were in here—and the Kinzonian names for the cities, too! That was more important than eating stale food.

The nurse took a deep breath and puffed up her chest like a disgruntled Empoleon. "I know the antibiotics make everything taste bad, but you need to at least make an attempt to eat. Do you want me to cut you open and insert a feeding tube?"

That was obviously a bluff, but Cyrus didn't like the way this woman kept looking at him. There was something vicious burning in her eyes: like she was mentally checking off an entire list of potential threats she could use to get him to comply.

"You have a visitor in the waiting room," she jeered. "She can't see you until you eat something."

So far as Cyrus knew, his parents had only authorized Cynthia to visit him. Did the hospital staff pull this same nonsense with her this morning? Was that why she never showed up? Cyrus was too tired to fight the nurse, but he was certainly angry. "I said I'd eat it later."

The nurse's tone turned falsely saccharine: like she was talking to a fussy toddler rather than a teenager. "Then I guess she'll have to visit you later, too."

' _Fine. Have it your way._ ' Cyrus glanced over his options and tried to figure out which food would taste the least disgusting. He settled on the toast and shoved the whole thing into his mouth.

Not only did it taste dry and stale, but something on it had spoiled. The more he chewed the bread, the more he believed that it was partially sawdust. It stuck to everything and turned into a glue-like consistency as it mixed with his saliva. It took a lot of effort to swallow, but he managed.

The nurse didn't say anything. She just watched in disgusted disbelief as Cyrus downed the gelatin. He chugged the sports drink so fast that he barely took the time to breathe. The taste was nothing short of godawful. A couple of times, his body lurched in protest. Whenever something tried to come back up, he swallowed it down: coughing and grimacing the whole time.

"Alright," the nurse snapped. "You win. I'll tell your friend she can come in, but you need to pace yourself next time." As she left the room, he heard her mutter something under her breath with more vexation than he'd heard from any Kinzonian so far: "иностранец!" He hadn't learned that word yet, but he doubted it was anything good.

If he called home and told his mother he was teaching himself Kinzonian, Nichole would probably give him lukewarm praise at best and a scolding at worst. At least Cynthia would be impressed that he'd picked up the alphabet and a few words. He reached for the box of tissues on his nightstand and dabbed at his mouth, just to make sure none of that nasty food was still there.

Cyrus expected to hear the soft sound of Cynthia's black boots touching the tile, but it never came. Instead, he heard a louder clacking noise: high heels on a heavier woman. A few seconds later, he saw a short but thick shadow morph across the hall. Cyrus flopped back in his bed, thinking this person was here to visit another patient.

He was wrong. This woman was here to see him, and she was someone he knew.

Renata peeked in, just to make sure Cyrus wasn't sleeping. Once she realized he was awake, the old woman sheepishly waved at him with her one free hand. Her other arm was loaded down by a metal lunch pail: the sort of thing a kindergartner would bring to school. "I didn't wake you up, did I?"

"No," Cyrus reassured her, trying his best to contain his excitement. "I've been up for a while. Come in."

Renata found the guest chair and eased herself into it. She was all smiles. "Poor Cynthia has run herself ragged these past few days. She wants everything to be perfect for you. I actually had to talk her into taking a break to do something fun with Isaac today."

"Oh? That's why she didn't come?"

Cyrus actually felt relieved to hear Cynthia was hanging out with other people. Every time she visited, she looked exhausted. Every fifth word was a yawn and she could barely keep her eyes open. The only things she talked about were all the errands she'd run in preparation for his release: washing his clothes, spending time with Golbat and Eevee, picking up books at the library, and so on.

He just assumed the chores were her way of coping. Even though Cynthia was physically fine, she didn't leave the train unscathed. If anything, the bombing probably scared her even more because she was awake for the entire ordeal. Cyrus had mercifully lost consciousness after a while, but Cynthia didn't have that escape. Instead, she had to keep her wits about her and find help before her friend bled to death.

He couldn't even begin to imagine how frightened she must have been. He also didn't know what he'd do if the situation had been reversed. As much as he wanted to believe he'd stay calm and save her, there was no way to know for sure. Hopefully, he'd never have to find out.

But Cynthia was going to spend the day with some mutual friends. If she did nothing but run errands, visit him for a couple of hours, and sit alone in the room; he'd have more reason to worry. Isaac was a good guy with a good heart. He'd certainly cheer her up. "I'm glad you convinced her to do that. I've been worried about her. So, um…what's in that bucket?"

"Oh, not much: just a get well soon present." Renata pulled the lid off the pail to a tin of shortbread cookies with some kind of green jam in the middle. "I figured you were probably tired of hospital food, so I made these."

In Sinnoh, people presented gifts and business cards with both hands. They also accepted the item with both hands. Cyrus grabbed both sides of the tin carefully, so as not to drop any cookies, and took a better look. They were in various Pokémon shapes: like the sort of frosting-covered cookies his grandfather kept in the house when he visited. The jam was the only part that seemed weird to him, mostly because he couldn't figure out what flavor it was by color or smell alone.

He ended up closing the lid and giving Renata an apologetic look. "I'm really sorry, but I'm not hungry right now. I'm sure they taste as good as they look, but just the thought of food is making me feel sick."

At least Renata didn't appear to be offended. "It's the antibiotics, isn't it? Which one do they have you on, dear?"

"Amoxicillin."

The old lady's round face crumpled up into an expression of disgust. "Oooooh, that one's the worst! They put me on that when my daughter gave me Wooper Cough. No matter what I did, my mouth tasted like a hot dumpster."

Cyrus was nodding his head in agreement. He'd told Cynthia that it tasted as bad as morning breath smelled, but it was worse. _Way_ worse.

"But I found a few things that could bypass the taste. When my children were sad or sick, I'd swap regular eggs for Chansey eggs. Not only did they recover faster, but the eggs have a very sweet taste that mixes well in baked goods. Luckily for you, a mutual friend of ours has a Chansey and was more than happy to donate an egg. You remember Grigol Beridze from the Plumbum Lodge, don't you?"

The name didn't ring any immediate bells. Cyrus closed his eyes for a moment, trying to remember any trainer who had a Chansey in the Plumbum City Trainers Lodge. He never battled one, so his memory was a bit hazy. The only thing that sounded familiar was the surname.

"Is that the guy with the little sister? The short, pudgy kid with pink hair?" When Renata nodded, Cyrus snorted out a quick chuckle. "I remember her more. When I beat Simon, she called me an evil genius."

"Well, I'm not so sure Tamari was right about you being _evil_! You're a fine young man in my eyes: polite, well-mannered, and considerate." Renata fished a few other things out of her bag: about half a dozen colored envelopes with cards inside. "Some of your other friends wanted to wish you a fast recovery, too. I said I'd pass along their messages with the cookies. Are you sure I can't convince you to eat one? Not even just a bite?"

Even though his stomach begged him not to do it, Cyrus opened the tin and pulled out a cookie. ' _Just one_ ,' he repeated to himself. He nervously opened his mouth, took a bite…and realized he could actually taste the flavor rather than the medicine! For the first time in ages, it no longer tasted like some kind of animal crapped in his mouth and died there. It was nothing short of a miracle.

For the first time since he left Plumbum City, he could feel his appetite coming back. Not only did he end up eating the full cookie, but he followed with another three more. The only reason he stopped was because Renata begged him to slow down and save some for later. "These are amazing. What are they?"

"Well, the cookies are a traditional almond shortbread that's popular in Stannum City. The filling is a Kinzonian jam called varenye. This is pine cone varenye."

"Pine cones?" No wonder he thought it smelled clean! "You can eat those?"

"Yes, you can! Where I come from, we'll make varenye out of anything that's edible: berry peels, melon rinds, pine cones, and even flowers. My daughter loves it with roses. How does your stomach feel, dear? Still queasy?"

Cyrus shook his head and put the cookies away. If he kept looking at them, he'd eat the entire tin. Then he really would be sick. "I'm glad you came to visit me. You weren't on the train, were you? I was worried about you."

"No, dear. I don't like the Metro very much and try to avoid riding it whenever I can. If the weather's clear enough for me to drive, I'll drive. Did you see the bombers? Cynthia said they were on your train."

Just the thought of Team Sigma was enough to sour Cyrus's mood. "Yes," he grumbled, clenching his sheets. "And I recognized them. Once I'm out of here, I want to talk to the police." He could hear Renata hum something in agreement, but her face looked hesitant. "What's wrong? Is that a bad idea?"

"Not at all. If you know who they are, it's your civic duty to report them to the proper authorities. It's just that this city isn't as foreigner-friendly as Plumbum City. Kalium City is a bit choosier with which types of foreigners they decide to welcome. Sinnohan travelers like you and Cynthia…I don't know. I'd just feel better if I accompanied you to the police station."

He could tell Renata was on the verge of apologizing for that, possibly thinking she sounded overly protective or paranoid. Cyrus didn't see it that way. He gave her a small, tired smile and shrugged his shoulders. "Better safe than sorry, right? Do you mind if I ask you something a little more personal?"

"Hm? No, I don't mind."

"How did you get in here? The nurses told me nobody can visit unless my family approves it."

Cyrus was pretty sure Cynthia called his parents and asked them to add Renata as an approved visitor. He was happy to see Renata, and he was sure Cynthia had done this with nothing but good intentions in her heart. It just pissed him off that she didn't even stop to ask him if he wanted her to do that. Sure, he would have said yes—but she couldn't even be bothered to ask!

"Well…" Renata sat back in her chair and took a deep breath. "I mentioned to Cynthia that I wanted to see you. I'm quite fond of you and wanted to make sure you were alright. She gave me your father's work number and I called him."

"Wait…" All the blood in Cyrus's body tried to find a place to hide, leaving him as white as a ghost. "You called my dad?"

All he could think about was how that conversation (probably disastrously) played out. Alexander could be an absolute brute when things didn't go his way. Did he yell or say anything hateful to his friend? Renata was a fine woman: a true lady! She had never been anything other than kind and gentle in Cyrus's presence; but that wouldn't mean anything to Alexander if he was in a bad mood. And he would be, considering the topic was his son.

Cyrus tried to get his mouth to work so he could ask Renata if she was alright. At the very least, he wanted to apologize for whatever vitriol Alexander spat at her; but nothing came out. He was temporarily mute and shaking all over. All he could do was look at her with fretful eyes and meekly nod his head when she asked if it was alright to hug him.

Renata was short, but hardly petite. Her arms were soft and comfortably plump. Cyrus just wanted to collapse into her and stay put, if only for a brief while. When Renata tried to pull away, she couldn't because Cyrus was hugging her back very tightly. "There's nothing to be afraid of," she insisted. "Once I told him how we know each other, your father was more than happy to let me see you."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing! "What…? Really…?"

…

 **"You're sure you want to do that?"**

 **Renata couldn't fault Cynthia for being worried. She and Cyrus both came from one of the safest and friendliest regions in the International Pokémon League. Sinnoh wasn't the sort of place where organized crime, mad bombers, and crazy idealists ran rampant. They probably didn't even lock their doors at night.**

 **"Yes, I am. You aren't the only person in this Lodge who's worried about Cyrus, dear."**

 **"I know that, but…" Cynthia pulled the old lady aside so the backpackers wouldn't overhear their conversation. "Before I give you his home phone number, there's something you need to know. Cyrus doesn't come from a happy home and his parents aren't nice people. I've never met Mrs. Akagi, but I've heard things. And Mr. Akagi has a temper. He yells."**

 **"Oh, is that all? Some men bark, honey. It's not that big of a deal." She held out her hand expectantly, hoping Cynthia would just give her the damn note, but the girl was still hesitant. "I grew up in north Kinzo—during the revolution, no less. How much do you know about that?"**

 **She'd chatted with Cynthia enough times to know how much she loved ancient history. There were at least three archaeologists in the Shirona family and Cynthia accompanied them to multiple sites in the past. She and Cyrus spent an entire day at the Ædranos Ruins just looking around and learning about the people who used to live there.**

 **Renata just wasn't sure how much enthusiasm this kid had for the more modern stuff. If Cynthia had a penchant for that, then Kinzo was going to be a treasure trove of violence, depravity, and bad ideas.**

 **The girl fidgeted a bit, sticking her hands deeper inside her sweatshirt. They were probably cold. "I don't know that much, Renata. I've just watched bits and pieces from the Heritage Channel."**

 **Dear sweet Arceus. Cynthia was bored enough to be watching** ** _that_** **garbage? Considering who the government hired to narrate those documentaries, they may as well have rebranded themselves as the Beauclair Propaganda Channel! Renata kept those remarks to herself and remained outwardly calm.**

 **"I'll spare you the details, but Kinzo's had at least five military coups since the turn of the century. The worst and first successful one was Comrade Vasiliev in '55. You want to talk about a man who could yell? Vasiliev could yell! No offense to Cyrus's father, but I'm pretty sure he's nothing by comparison. He doesn't scare me."**

 **Cynthia sighed and finally surrendered the note. "Okay. If you say so." She didn't sound too convinced, but her friends were begging her to hurry up. The sooner they left, the more time they'd have to enjoy the marina. "But don't say I didn't warn you."**

 **Renata slipped the paper into her coat pocket and chuckled. "Oh, you certainly did; but I'm not worried. He can't be that much older than my son; and I don't let Aldo talk to me like that, either. Have fun at the harbor, dear. I'll be fine. Boys?" She felt a bit bad calling them that, but Isaac was the only one she knew by name. None of the others ever challenged her. Their egos were probably too fragile to risk losing to a little Kinzonian granny. "You'll take good care of Cynthia, won't you?"**

 **Isaac grinned and gave her a mock salute. "Yes, ma'am! And tell Zed we'll be back by curfew!"**

 **Until the noisy group left the Lodge, Renata stood at the bottom of the stairs and waved goodbye. As soon as the coast was clear, she fished the note out of her coat and headed back to her private room. It took no time at all to dial, but it did take forever for somebody to answer the phone.**

 **On the other side of the screen was a stern-looking man with slicked-back navy blue hair and a closely cropped beard. He bore a strong resemblance to Cyrus: especially with his mouth, nose, and cheekbones. He was just older, surlier, and certainly a lot more muscular. With a friendlier expression, he may have even looked handsome.**

 **Renata took a deep breath, preparing herself for every horrid thing Cynthia tried to warn her about. "Hello. Am I speaking with Mr. Alexander Akagi?"**

 **"Yes. Who is this?" He honestly seemed more confused than angry. "This is a Kinzonian area code. Why are you calling me?"**

 **"Sir, my name is Renata Cordova. I believe you spoke with my friend Cynthia not too long ago." The man nodded his head to confirm. "I'm a mutual friend of both Cynthia and your son. I'm calling to see if you would be amenable to letting me visit Cyrus in the hospital."**

 **"Wait. You said your name was…Cordova? Right?"**

 **"Yes, Mr. Akagi."**

 **Apparently, the surname struck some sort of chord with him. Alexander murmured something under his breath, but Renata didn't catch what he'd said. "Can you hold on a moment? I need to check something."**

 **"Of course. Take as much time as you need." It wasn't like Renata had anything better to do, anyway. She waited patiently, hoping that Alexander didn't leave her waiting for too terribly long.**

 **He came back less than two minutes later with an old leather wallet and a much friendlier expression on his face. Weirdly enough, Renata was reminded of how Cyrus looked when he outsmarted Simon. There was some pride burning in that man's face. "I thought your name sounded familiar! I'm a former army brat and moved around a lot when I was a kid. I did part of a Kinzo journey about thirty years ago."**

 **"Ooooh…" Renata cringed when she heard that. "You came here right after Valentin II was forced to abdicate, didn't you? How far did you get with the old league?"**

 **Alexander smirked and opened up the wallet. "You know, I can't exactly talk about this sort of thing openly with my wife. Nichole doesn't like Pokémon battles, but look. See for yourself." There were six Kinzonian badges in his wallet, some of which had been replaced with newer badges since he did his journey.**

 **"Oh my! Six out of eight, eh? That's not bad at all—especially not for that era!" Renata smiled and was pleased to see he smiled back.**

 **"I wanted to look over my old Kinzo notes because your surname sounded familiar," Alexander confessed. "And I was right: I battled a Cordova before. You wouldn't happen to be related to Sterling Cordova, would you? When I got to Stannum City, the locals told me he was next in line to become a Gym Leader."**

 **Renata's smile turned a bit nostalgic rather than chipper. "He never succeeded, dear, but yes. Sterling is my ex-husband." There was a trace of a smile on Alexander's lips, not that Renata understood why. "Considering we're talking about him all these years later, he must have left quite an impression on you."**

 **"He most certainly did! Sterling was one of the toughest trainers I ever faced—Kinzonian or otherwise! This…wow…" He chuckled a bit, running his fingers through his hair. The pomade was starting to lose its holding power. "I never imagined my boy would meet somebody like** ** _you_** **out there! How on earth did that happen?"**

 **"Well…" Oh Arceus. Where did she even want to begin? "Sterling and I were married for almost fifty years. Now that our babies are grown and my house is empty, I decided to go on a Pokémon journey. I couldn't take one in my youth, you see. We married shortly after the tsar was killed and there never seemed to be a good time for me to go after that. I'm doing quite well, but it hasn't been easy."**

 **Alexander's smile still hadn't faded. He leaned against the edge of the wall, like he was prepared to let this conversation go on indefinitely. As much as Cynthia wanted to tell her this man had a temper, Renata had yet to see it. Instead, he was greeting her as though she were an old family friend. "It wasn't easy thirty years ago, either. I've done some very difficult league challenges, but your league was certainly the toughest."**

 **"It's only gotten tougher," Renata insisted, "especially with the newer Gym Leaders. Each time one of the old guard retires or dies, these newcomers feel like they have more to prove. They go out of their way to be difficult, just to prove to Premier Beauclair that the Kinzo League made the right choice in hiring them.**

 **"Simon Morozov, our Plumbum City Gym Leader, has been nothing short of a nightmare for his opponents. When Cynthia and Cyrus came to town, I'd been stuck on at that gym for nearly eight months. They managed to defeat Simon in record time."**

 **Alexander's eyes were wide open with surprise. "My kid did that?" He didn't sound angry at all! If anything, he sounded proud. "Cyrus already has a Kinzo badge?"**

 **"Yes, Mr. Akagi. Like you, your son has a Lead Badge." Renata held hers out to show to Alexander that despite how much time had changed, the badge's design never did. "In fact, Cyrus is the first person to defeat Simon on his first try. That defeat shook Simon so badly that he couldn't concentrate on his other battles for the rest of the week—even mine. I owe your child a lot, Mr. Akagi. I couldn't have progressed in my journey without him. He's a very clever and resourceful young man. You must be very proud of him."**

 **The man was all smiles, even to the point of his cheeks turning red. "I am—but please don't tell him I said that."**

 **"Eh?"**

 **Alexander cleared his throat, clearly deciding that this needed to be clarified. He didn't like the way Renata was looking at him. "Did, uh…did Cyrus tell you how he got to Kinzo?"**

 **"Hm?" Renata wracked her brain, trying to remember a time when Cyrus told her how he got there. "I don't believe it's ever come up. I just know that he and Cynthia are helping Professor Myrtle with something. I'm a mite hazy on the specifics."**

 **It was a bit unnerving how deep of a breath that man took. When it came out, it was clear some part of what Renata said left Alexander feeling both frustrated and tired. "That's not exactly a lie," he started, "but it's not the entire truth, either. Yes, Cyrus is working for Myrtle Tuscarora. What he failed to tell you is that he filed for that internship behind our backs. We only found out about it after he'd already flown out to Kinzo."**

 **Something else was building on Alexander's face, but he was difficult for Renata to read. "I didn't even know he applied. If I'd known a Pokémon Professor wanted to hire him, I probably would have let him go. Most trainers would sell a kidney just for an opportunity to talk to one! It's a huge honor."**

 **"Yes. It is. Both of my children received an Eevee from her ages ago."**

 **Alexander sighed and leaned back in his chair. "I've gone over it in my head at least a hundred times. I think I know why Cyrus kept mum on this.**

 **"My wife has a very complicated relationship with your country. She grew up on a northern island that both Sinnoh and Kinzo have a claim to. As such, she's quite terrified of your people and doesn't trust you. In fact, she's convinced you'll bomb us any day now. If Cyrus so much as said the word** ** _Kinzo_** **to Nichole, she'd shut him down immediately.**

 **"And I know for a fact he's afraid of me. If I'm home, he actively avoids being anywhere near me. Maybe he was too scared to tell us, but I still wish he had. Instead…"**

 **Alexander closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, trying to keep some of the throbbing veins on the sides from getting too large. Renata could see them throb.**

 **"** ** _Instead_** **, he forged my signature on the permission form so Professor Myrtle would buy the plane ticket. He waited until we were both away on a business trip and took that opportunity to run away. We came home to an empty house, not knowing where our son was. You're a parent, Mrs. Cordova. I'm sure you can understand how terrified we were."**

 **Renata was speechless. What could she even say in response to that? Her children would never do something like that, but they also hadn't lived in fear of a parent. They were both well-loved and never doubted that love. They told her everything. "I'm so sorry, Mr. Akagi. I can understand why you're angry."**

 **"I'm not even angry anymore, Mrs. Cordova. I'm just disappointed."**

 **Considering how red Alexander's face was turning, Renata wasn't so sure she believed him. He kept drumming his fingers on the table and fidgeting around.**

 **"When I first found out; I was prepared to fly out to Kinzo and drag him home, even if he kicked and screamed the entire way. Now, I'm more disappointed with myself. I haven't forgiven Cyrus for what he did yet, but I know why he didn't feel comfortable talking to us. I guess a part of me is relieved to see he worked up enough courage to rebel for once."**

 **Alexander glanced down at his hands, paying close attention to his gold wedding band. He pinched the ring and slowly moved it back and forth. "My wife is high-functioning autistic. As such, she's a very quiet and non-confrontational person. Cyrus may look more like me, but he's picked up more than a few of Nichole's quirks. He's never stood up to me before. Doing something this drastic only proves he had a backbone after all. I never thought he did.**

 **"Don't get me wrong. My wife wants him to come home and I'm worried, too. Kinzo isn't exactly a friendly country, but maybe I shouldn't underestimate him. I mean, he's already beaten one of your Gym Leaders and set a new record. By the time that internship ends, I'm sure he'll find other ways to surprise us. I'm proud of him, Mrs. Cordova. I just don't want him to know it. Can you understand why?"**

 **Very slowly, Renata nodded her head. "Yes, dear. I can."**

 **"I'll add you to his list of approved visitors. I'm glad to see he's opened up enough to make a few friends. And ma'am? Do, uh…do take care of my boy while he's out there. He screws up sometimes, but he's a good kid. I don't want to see him get hurt."**

 **…**

"…yes. And I have one other surprise for you in my bag." Renata held out her tote, gesturing for Cyrus to open it up and see what was inside.

He felt a little anxious doing that. Although he knew exactly how his mother organized her purse, it was off limits to him. If he needed to borrow something out of it, he always had to ask Nichole to grab it. Trying to do it himself usually merited a lot of fake coughing and a death glare. Still, what was the harm if Renata was actually offering it to him?

Very gently, Cyrus opened the bag to see Golbat and Eevee's Poké Balls sitting on top of some clean clothes. As soon as he picked up Eevee's ball, he could feel him rolling around excitedly inside. He was just as eager to see Eevee again, too. "How did you…why are these things here?"

"I had a conversation with your father as well as the doctors. You can leave this afternoon."

Cyrus couldn't believe what he was hearing! They were going to discharge him early! Even if Renata only came in here to visit him, just seeing her had brought him some peace of mind. Hearing that he could leave his horrible hell and go back to the Trainers Lodge brought him the closest thing to joy he'd felt in ages.

He held the shirt and pants up to his chest, ready to get out of bed and change. "Why did they change their mind? I still have two days' worth of antibiotics left."

"Don't get too excited, honey. There were some terms and conditions to this early release," Renata explained. "You'll need to finish your amoxicillin without missing a dosage. Like you said, you only have a couple of days left. I know how nasty they are, but you'll be much worse off if you stop taking them."

"I know how antibiotics work, Renata. That's not going to be a problem."

"I also promised your father that if he agreed to this, you wouldn't leave the Trainers Lodge until I think you're well enough to do so. He told me how much you hate hospitals, so I figured you would sleep better in the Lodge. Cynthia has a private room for the two of you, by the way. All your things are clean, unpacked, and ready for you."

"I don't know how I can thank you. The visit, the cookies, _this_ …" Nothing in the world terrified him more than hospitals. "Do you need to bring me back here for checkups?"

"Only if you aren't feeling well! The doctors will want to evaluate you one last time to make sure you're alright, but I can come with you for that. Until then, I want you to rest in your room as much as possible. No battles, parties, large crowds, high adrenaline activities, or anything that might excite you. Until I give you the all clear, your days are mostly going to consist of reading books and watching TV."

"That's fine. I'm doing that already. In fact, look." Cyrus held up one of the primers, feeling a tiny bit bashful. "Maybe you can help me learn some basic Kinzonian. I'm probably butchering your language."

"Oh my goodness. You…" Renata covered her mouth with a hand to stifle a laugh. "Yes, dear. I'll help you learn Kinzonian, if that's what you want to do. I'm more than willing to stay in the Lodge to keep you company. If you need your space, I'll just need you to check in with me three times a day: when you wake up, around lunch time, and just before you go to sleep. It's unlikely you'll suffer any reactions this late into the treatment, but you still could. If you feel sore, numb, nauseous, hot, cold, itchy, or anything out of the ordinary; find me immediately. I'll drive you to the ER."

It wasn't going to come to that, but he could promise to do that. "I'm grateful, Renata. I really am. I just don't know why you're willing to do this much for me. You barely know me." He didn't expect her to answer. "Is there anything I can do for you once I'm well again? Anything at all?"

Renata took a while to mull it over. She clearly hadn't expected anything beyond the boy's gratitude, but there was clearly something else she wanted. "You know how I've unofficially adopted some of you as my honorary grandchildren? I actually do have a granddaughter: Opal. She's about to turn ten and loves Rock Pokémon. Kalium City has a network of underground tunnels and they are a popular gathering place for Nosepasses. Once you have a clean bill of health from the doctors, how about we go spelunking together and catch one?"

"I'd love to do that with you." In that moment, he probably would have agreed to help this woman catch a legendary Pokémon.

…

Renata had arrived at Kalium General Hospital at 2:00 in the afternoon. By 3:00, she signed Cyrus out of the hospital and took him to the parking garage. Even though the Kalium City Trainers Lodge was only a block away, she insisted on driving to minimize the amount of time he spent in the cold. He was checked in and ready to go to his room by 3:30.

Cyrus recognized the Beridze siblings in the den area. They were playing a game of checkers. As much as he wanted to thank Grigol for the Chansey egg, he remembered how loud Tamari could be and thought better of it. At least Renata remembered he was an introvert and packed his hoodie. It was just easier to pull his hood up and avoid making eye contact with people.

He could catch up once he felt better. There wasn't any rush.

Once upstairs, Cyrus decided to let Eevee out of his ball. As soon as he pushed the button, the Pokémon rushed over to him and pawed his legs excitedly. "Veeeeeee!" He bent down low enough to pet Eevee. The Pokémon bumped the top of his head against Cyrus's hand and licked him.

"Hey," he replied, scratching behind Eevee's left ear. "I missed you too." Eevee continued to paw Cyrus's legs because he wanted to be picked up. It didn't take much to convince the boy to oblige.

Although Renata told him how much work Cynthia put into getting the room ready for him, Cyrus was still impressed when he opened the door. Both beds were neatly made, his suitcase was placed on top of the dresser closest to the bay window, and all his clothes were neatly folded in the drawers. There was even some sort hand-drawn coupon on his pillow. _Good for one brunch at Café Khismatullina_ , it said. As sweet a gesture as that was, Cyrus had no idea what that meant.

Although the room only had one desk, Cynthia decided to lay out Cyrus's things there: probably because she expected him to use it more. His books and notebooks were neatly organized on top of the desk, all in alphabetical order. The address book was at the very top, which didn't surprise him. She'd not only called his father, but had to copy it for Renata too. That was probably the last thing she did before spending the day with Isaac.

He opened the book, wanting to show Renata that he'd written down her contact info after the Plumbum City party, but something wasn't right. When Professor Myrtle mailed him her acceptance letter, she'd attached a copy of his robotics teacher's recommendation letter. Instead of reading what Dr. Plutarski had to say about him, Cyrus neatly folded the note and placed it in his address book. He'd meant to pull it out and read it as a pick-me-up on an especially bad day, but it was missing! Cynthia must have dropped and lost it!

Cyrus was ready to tear that whole desk apart to look for the note, but stopped when he saw the worried expression on his Eevee's face. "I'm fine," he insisted, but he wasn't. "I had a piece of paper in here. Can you try to sniff it out for me?" Eevee tried, but there was no luck. Whatever happened to it, it was gone.

By sunset, the Lodge Owner paid a troop of delivery boys to bring Hoennese takeout to the Lodge. Cyrus felt well enough to eat, but wasn't familiar enough with the cuisine to know what to order. He let Renata pick for him. When it was time to pick up the food, Renata said she'd bring it upstairs so they could eat in private. He took that time to change into his bedclothes since he had no intention of leaving the room until morning.

When she knocked, Cyrus opened the door for her. He just wished he could help her with the food, too. Each time he tried to put his Eevee down, the Pokémon dug his claws deeper into his sweatshirt and refused to budge. He finally had to fish the bag of treats out of Cynthia's bag and toss a treat halfway across the room to get Eevee to leave him alone. "This smells good. How much do I owe you for mine?"

Renata chuckled and started to set up the table. "It's free, dear. Lodge Owners are required to provide their guests at least two meals a day. The Kalium Lodge Owner doesn't know how to cook and always orders out. And if I'm being honest, I'm a bit surprised you weren't too familiar with Hoennese food. Isn't Hoenn just south of Sinnoh?"

"It is, but we don't eat a lot of their food. Most of their signature dishes are seafood and my dad's allergic to most shellfish." Sometimes Nichole would take Cyrus out to eat it when Alexander was away on business, but they never ate it in the house. "What's this dish called?"

"Champon," Renata informed him. "They fry vegetables, seafood, and Grumpig meat in lard, make a broth out of Grumpig and Combusken bones, and mix it all together with ramen noodles." She saw Cyrus reach for the cookie tin and gave him a quizzical look. "Oh? Having dessert first, are we?"

"No," he insisted. "It's just reassurance that I won't get sick." As he bit into the cookie, the old lady giggled.

Each time he tried to stick his chopsticks in the soup, Eevee playfully swatted at his wrist. If he was this frisky, it probably meant Cynthia didn't play with him enough. ' _I bet she tried to give equal attention to all four of the Pokémon. Eevee needs more._ ' He somehow doubted Golbat wanted anything other than to be left alone.

Luckily, one of Eevee's toys was on the floor. Cyrus leaned over, trying his best not to aggravate his stitches, and tossed the ball across the room. Eevee pounced off his lap and tried to find the ball. He could take breaks with his meal long enough to throw the ball again, so long as it meant he could eat.

"Have you ever been to Hoenn, Cyrus?"

"Only a few times," he admitted. "My mother works for the Devon Corporation's Sinnoh branch. Sometimes they'll fly her out to their headquarters for work and she'll bring us along. I don't go a lot, but she took me to see the Mossdeep Space Center once."

He'd been mesmerized by it. The man who gave the tour was researching alien DNA found on meteorites and hypothesized that there were Pokémon in deep space. Cyrus had asked so many questions that the tour repeatedly came to a screeching halt. By the end of it, Nichole was so frustrated that she threatened to leave him there. Cyrus kind of wished she'd actually done it.

"When I told my grandfather about it, he was jealous that I got to go. He always wanted to work there, you see. Sometimes I wonder if I'll end up like him."

"Hm?" Renata still had noodles sticking out of her mouth. "What do you mean, dear?"

"He's a very intelligent man. He even went back to school a second time to get an astrophysics degree on top of his astronomy degree, just because Mossdeep recommended it. He worked two jobs to pay for it and was willing to interview for any open role they had: even entry level. I'm sure he looked like a perfect candidate on paper, but he couldn't convince anyone to interview him. Now all he does is teach high school physics to a town so small that you can't find it on a Sinnoh map.

"I'm a lot like him. I try my best, but sometimes it feels like it's never going to be enough. Everyone dreams, but only a few of us are actually capable of achieving them. And then everyone just tells you to try harder, that you just aren't trying hard enough and…" He shook his head, not wanting to finish the food. "What about you, Renata? Was there ever something you wanted to do, but couldn't accomplish?"

Renata swallowed her noodles and cleared her throat. "Me personally? No. All I wanted was to fall in love, get married, and have a lovely family. I'm very proud of my children and they've both grown up to be wonderful people. I couldn't ask for more. My husband wasn't so fortunate. Like your grandfather, Sterling fell short of his goal."

"Oh?" The only thing Cyrus thought his stomach could handle right now was the hot oolong tea. He felt bad about wasting the champon, but it was free. It wasn't like he paid for it. "What did he want to be?"

"A Gym Leader. He did everything right: specialized in a specific Pokémon type, participated in Elemental Specialist challenges, kept up his certification, and so on. Sterling and his Pokémon even kept our hometown safe during the riots. But each time an evaluation came up, he—"

A loud laugh in the hall made it impossible to hear what Renata said. By that point, Cyrus's tired mind wouldn't have been able to pay attention anyway. That was Cynthia's laugh. "Thanks again, Isaac!" she called out, reaching to unlock the door. "I'll see you tomorrow for—huh?"

Her arms were loaded down with bags, but she ended up dropping all of them in surprise. "Cyrus!? What are you doing here?!"


	39. The Recommendation Letter

Cynthia's surprise was warranted. The doctors at Kalium General Hospital recommended Cyrus be kept under observation until the end of the week. That way, if anything went wrong, they could act quickly. However, Cyrus was more inclined to agree with Renata: the worst was already over. If he was going to have a bad reaction, it would have happened by now.

Kalium General wasn't a good hospital, anyway. Sinnohese hospitals included check-ins with a polite and friendly nurse every hour except during resting hours. The Kinzonians simply left their patients in bed until they buzzed, shouted, or screamed for assistance. Other than that, orderlies only appeared to shush a patient or guest when they were too loud.

Cyrus hated hospitals long before he came to Kinzo. His most recent stay had only reinforced his loathing. "Renata signed me out."

Cynthia's wasn't his mother, so he didn't feel like he owed her a long and detailed explanation for his actions. However, just like with Nichole, it seemed that his answer wasn't satisfactory.

Cynthia's brows knit together as she scanned his body from head to toe. She was looking for some sign that (1) Renata made a mistake and (2) he needed to go back. When her gray eyes glanced up to meet his blue ones, she shook her head and turned her attention toward Renata. "Why did you do that?"

Less than a minute ago, her tone had been nothing but laughter and playfulness. She'd had a good day with a caring and supportive group of friends. That had all been replaced with worry: something she had tried (and failed) to hold back when she first saw the aftermath of Cyrus's injuries.

"What about his antibiotics for the Golbat bite, Renata? Or his bed rest, for that matter!? Do his parents even know he's out, or—"

"Is there any reason you're asking her instead of me?" Cyrus knew Cynthia's panic came from a place of concern, but he didn't appreciate it. When people talked around him rather than directly with him, it felt like his presence wasn't being acknowledged and his words meant nothing. "I'm not dead, nor am I deaf."

Neither was Cynthia. She didn't even have to look at Cyrus to tell he was upset. This went well beyond mere annoyance. Whatever was wrong; it had festered all day…possibly even multiple days.

Renata winced and began taking quiet, cat-like steps toward the door. "If you two need to talk, I can leave." Even if they begged her to stay, it was apparent the old woman had already made up her mind. One of her hands clutched the door knob, ready to twist it. "I don't mind. It…erm…kind of sounds like you need to."

In an attempt to calm down, Cynthia shut her eyes and mentally counted backward from ten. She knew better than to think this situation would resolve itself by the time she reached zero, but at least she'd be less addled. "Yeah. I think we do, too."

' _And once again, you decide for the both of us. This can't continue, Cynthia. It has to stop._ ' Cyrus audibly exhaled through his nose. His temper was rising and he wanted to keep it under control. "I'll see you tomorrow, Renata. Have a good night."

Before she took her leave, Renata shot both children one last grandmotherly smile. "You too, dear. Don't forget to take your pills and I'll see you bright and early."

Once the door shut, Cyrus forced all the bad air out of his lungs. When he did that, his whole body felt like it was deflating. He collapsed onto his bed and kept his eyes on Cynthia. "If it makes you feel any better, I'm not leaving the Lodge until I finish the antibiotics. Renata's going to keep an eye on me. If I have a reaction or my condition doesn't improve, she'll drive me back to the hospital."

"Ah…I see…"

Since Cyrus was sitting on his bed, Cynthia decided to do the same on hers. It was clear whose bed was whose. Cyrus kept perfect military corners and Cynthia only made her bed on laundry days. The rest of the time, she'd simply bundle herself in blankets and let them fall wherever.

She peeled her gloves off and began untying her boot laces. She'd pedaled that bike and walked so much that she could smell her socks before her feet were fully free. They stank, and Cyrus's Eevee really seemed interested in the smell.

"That's sweet of her." Those words came out a bit more cautious than usual, but only because Cynthia wanted to tread carefully. Her friend was obviously unhappy over something, but she wasn't sure what in particular caused it. It wasn't like Cyrus to get this worked up. "Did you two have a nice visit?"

"Yes. We did." Cyrus's eyes no longer met Cynthia's. Instead, he fixated on a place on his arm where he'd yanked out an IV port. He'd scratched that spot until it turned pink. "I wasn't expecting to see her in my room, though. That caught me off guard."

"She just wanted to surprise you." As soon as she saw that big batch of cookies; Cynthia couldn't have possibly told Renata no even if she wanted to. Those two had bonded in the last town. It didn't feel right to turn keep her away from Cyrus, especially when it was blatantly obvious how much she cared about him. "I thought you'd be happy to see her. Aren't you two friends?"

"We are. And I never said I _wasn't_ happy to see her." Cyrus kept scratching at the red spot, causing Cynthia to cringe. If he kept this up, he was going to make it bleed. "I just don't like surprises. They make me nervous."

"I'm sorry. I was only trying to help." She waited for Cyrus to tell her everything was fine and this was all just a big misunderstanding, but his posture never eased up. Instead, the boy remained stiff and seemed more interested in his arm than her. Cynthia swallowed all the spit in her mouth and thought very carefully about what she'd say next. "You're making it sound like I did something wrong. Did I?"

Tempting as it was to say yes, Cyrus hesitated. He was torn with how he wanted to answer.

Cynthia wasn't the first person in his life who volunteered him for things without his consent. His parents did it all the time. He knew better than to object when Alexander did it, but sometimes he tested the waters with Nichole. Sometimes Nichole apologized once she realized her actions upset her son; but Cyrus suspected Cynthia would do the _other_ thing his mother did: justify her decision and leave him feeling like an asshole for not playing along.

In the end, he decided honesty was the best policy. While he doubted Cynthia had actively set out to make him uncomfortable; he also knew that lying and insisting everything was fine meant she'd possibly do this again in the future. Instead of learning from her mistake, she'd simply repeat it.

If he wanted his boundaries to be respected and his voice to be heard, he needed to speak up now. It took a while to force the words from his lips, but they finally came out. "I don't think you meant to, but you've been making decisions on my behalf without any consideration for my feelings."

"Without any—what?!" Cynthia grabbed hold of her comforter with both hands just to keep herself grounded. She couldn't believe what she was hearing! "I gave Renata your dad's number because I thought you'd want to see her. And you said it was a good visit, right?"

That visit had greatly lifted his spirits, but that didn't excuse the fact Cynthia coordinated it behind his back. "Yes, I did say that; but I would have been a lot happier if I'd known she was coming. It was my…" His words were starting to jumble together. "M-my…" The more he tried to articulate what he was feeling, the more everything garbled up until he was unintelligible. In frustration, he placed his hands over his face. His cheeks and forehead felt hot. " _Shit_ …"

"Cyrus?" Cynthia eased herself off her bed and moved to sit next to Cyrus. Once she sat on the mattress, she could tell he was shaking. She moved to gently put a hand on his back: just a small reassurance that she wasn't going anywhere. She could be patient and wait for him if his words weren't coming out right.

…but he pushed her hand away and wrapped his arms around himself.

Clearly, he didn't want to be touched; so Cynthia put her hands back in her pockets. "I think I get it. It's a consent thing, isn't it? You're mad because I made a choice that impacted you and I didn't ask you first."

This same sort of bullshit happened at home, and Cyrus wanted Cynthia to know that. He lost count of how many times he worked hard all week, just to make sure his weekend would be completely clear. Then, just as soon as he was in the middle of a project, Alexander would tell him to get in the car because they were volunteering all afternoon. Or Nichole would drag him along for grocery shopping because she "wanted a second pair of eyes." If he didn't play along, _he_ was being the unreasonable one.

He also wanted to tell Cynthia that she'd literally just done it again. It didn't matter if she was well-meaning or not. He didn't want to be touched.

"I would…have said…yes…" he groaned. Just to make sure he didn't stumble, he spaced out his words: making sure the last one successfully escaped his lips before moving to the next. "But that's not the point. At home…I can't control anything. Things just… _happen_ …and I have no s-say." He still couldn't bring himself to look at her. His face was too warm and his eyes felt damp. "Kinzo was supposed to be different. I don't care what you do for yourself. But if it's related to me…can you run it by me first?"

"…sure, Cyrus. If it makes you feel more respected, then I can do that. I didn't know this was such a big deal for you."

Like her dad and several of her friends, Cynthia loved surprises. Her friends sometimes showed up in Celestic Town unannounced, called at random times to chat on the phone, and mailed care packages filled with souvenirs from all over the world.

When her parents were studying some of Unova's ancient ruins; they broke the news by mailing Cynthia a plane ticket, an empty badge case, and the name of the hotel where they were staying. They hadn't called to ask if she wanted to go. They knew her well enough to know she'd say yes. Not only did she fly out to see them, but she had the time of her life. In fact, Unova ended up being more fun than Sinnoh!

But just because she loved surprises didn't mean everyone else felt the same way. Cyrus preferred his days to be organized, mapped out, and predictable. He found security in stability. Now that Cynthia knew that, she could try to be a bit more conscientious of his personal wishes in the future. "Can I at least tell you what was going through my mind? That way, you'll at least understand where I was coming from?"

Cyrus's mouth still felt like it was full of cement, so he nodded his head.

"Ever since the bombing, I've been in survival mode. Most of the time, I had to think fast and do what I thought was best instead of waiting to see what you wanted to do. Sometimes, you weren't even conscious. When I saw you in the Battle Car…and I saw all the blood…"

Just thinking about it made her lunch do somersaults. Losing a friend had only been a nightmare up to that point. It only felt real when she held Cyrus in her arms and watched him slip in and out of consciousness. When Jet missed the hospital exit, all Cynthia could do was scream. She'd felt powerless in that back seat and those bad dreams would probably continue for months.

"I know you hate hospitals, but you needed to go. I honest to Arceus thought you were going to die."

Every part of that was true. Cyrus had spent enough time in hospitals to develop a strong fear of them, but Cynthia was right. Had she followed his wishes and not taken him to a doctor, there was a good chance he wouldn't be here today. Her choice saved his life. "I'm not angry about the hospital. Taking me there was the right thing to do."

"I feel a little better, knowing that you think that. You sounded horrible on the phone." Cynthia rubbed one of her shoulders in an attempt to smooth out a stiff muscle. Everything felt so tense from all the stress. "I haven't slept well these past few days, and it's mostly because I was worried about you. Eevee, too. He wouldn't leave me alone."

She'd mentioned that back at the hospital. Eevee had a lot of pent-up energy and wanted to play. Cynthia had looked so exhausted, but she seemed well-rested today. Maybe she took him to battle before bed. It was sweet, in its own weird way. She clearly wanted to make sure his Pokémon didn't get too lonely while he was gone.

When Cyrus finally lifted his head from his elbows, he noticed Cynthia was dabbing at one of her eyes. She was trying her best not to cry, but it was way too late for that. Her cheeks looked as red as a Pikachu's.

"I couldn't shake the feeling something would go wrong at the hospital. I'd have dreams where a nurse called the Lodge, just to say you needed to stay longer or you weren't going to make it. I never knew what it would be: an allergic reaction to the antidote…sepsis from the bite…some kind of infection from the stitches because the hospital wasn't sanitary…" She kept choking on her words, occasionally hiccupping between them. "It changed each time, but it all felt so real."

It took her a moment to say anything else; mostly because she was worried Cyrus would misconstrue those tears. She was just about to reach over to touch him again, but thought better of it and retracted her hand.

Cyrus noticed. When he saw Cynthia's hesitation, he decided to ease up at least a little. He leaned a bit to the left so their shoulders could touch. The girl's entire body seemed to go lax, but he could still feel her chest occasionally shake from small sobs. Now he had to wonder if he'd been too harsh with her.

Other than his father's occasional sanguine tantrums, no one expressed their emotions openly at 404 Wingull Cove. If his parents were upset, they'd typically go off to another room and sort everything out in private. Cyrus learned to do as they did. If Cynthia was falling apart like this from a combination of fear, worry, and sleep deprivation; it really was starting to make sense. She'd probably acted without thinking.

"If I wasn't at the hospital; I was doing your laundry, taking our Pokémon to the nurse, getting the room ready for you—all that stuff. If anyone suggested something I thought would help you out—even a little—I just ran with it. I know I screwed up, but I didn't mean to. I just wanted you to focus on your recovery and not have to worry about anything else."

Her only regret in all this was giving Renata that phone number. If she had known she'd break Cyrus out of the hospital ahead of schedule, Cynthia never would have caved. What if he forgot to take his antibiotics or something bad happened at the Lodge? How could Renata be so sure she could get Cyrus back to the doctor in time? That was such an irresponsible thing to do!

"I guess that's why you went through my things?" Cyrus hadn't meant for those words to come out sounding so accusatory, but it was too late to take them back. Cynthia stared at him, completely flabbergasted. "I mean…you had to, right? You wanted to see me, and you couldn't do that unless you called my parents and got their permission. You couldn't have done that, let alone given their number to anyone else, unless you went through my bag and found my address book."

"I just wanted to _help,_ " Cynthia repeated, this time much more defensively. She'd never used that tone with Cyrus before, but there wasn't much more of this she could take. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you that I was on auto-pilot before it finally sinks in. I wasn't doing this to be mean or nosy! I just—"

"No?" Shit. Things were escalating. Until she raised her voice at him, Cyrus thought the situation could have been diffused. He knew she didn't mean it—sometimes he lashed out when people backed him into a corner, too—but his feelings were hurt and his privacy had been violated. "You're sure about that?"

"I'm damn sure! And I don't appreciate being made to sound like I'm some kind of control freak, either!"

In an attempt to keep his hands from shaking, he curled them into fists. When he got worked up, the first thing that happened were his words started to jumble together. Normally, he could come down from that if he took his time and tried to enunciate. After that, his face would start to turn flush and he'd begin to sweat.

He was already well past that stage. The fact his hands twitched and needed to grab something meant that if this kept up, he'd feel faint in a couple of minutes. With the antibiotics and all the stress from the hospital, he already felt dizzy. It didn't matter that he was already sitting down. The whole room felt like it was spinning.

Cynthia's entire face was pink: outraged that he'd think so little of her. "You didn't see how bad your body looked when I found you! You couldn't even keep your eyes open! I held you in my arms, waited in the emergency room with you, and refused to leave until the doctors took you!"

She got up from the bed, despite the fact her entire body trembled. Her legs looked like they could give out at any minute, but she insisted on standing. "I know your parents aren't good people. I only had to talk to your dad for a few minutes to figure that out. Frankly, he scares me; but he didn't want to see you die out here. He also didn't want you to sit alone in a foreign hospital without any friends to look after you."

Cyrus was so hard to read at times. Was he angry? Upset? Resigned? Some combination of the above? None of the above? Cynthia could at least tell he was trying to figure out how to properly respond. She wanted him to say that things just got out of hand and they'd sleep this off. Tomorrow; they could put the past behind them, move on, and pretend this fight never happened.

But that wasn't what he did. Instead, he rubbed his eyelids with a couple of fingers and groaned. "You called him because you thought he had a right to know. I'm not exactly happy that you did that, but I can follow your logic. I'm not angry that you talked to my father."

"Then why are you—"

"I can understand why you called him. I can even understand why you felt the need to drag Renata into this. But this isn't the first time you've aired my personal business to someone it didn't concern."

Cynthia opened her mouth, but all that came out was the first half of "what." She had no idea what he was even talking about! What could he _possibly_ think she did to—

"Remember when my mother froze my assets and I told you about her? I asked you to keep that private, but you didn't. When we had that victory party, I overheard part of your call to your grandmother… _including_ the part where she made a remark about 'adopting' me."

"Cyrus…"

"Why else would she say something like that unless she pitied me?"

"Cyrus, would you just let me talk? My grandmother's a—"

"And why would she pity someone she knew nothing about? Unless y—"

"Oh my ARCEUS, Cyrus! Just how paranoid _are_ you!?" That was it. He'd finally lit the powder keg. "All I told her—and Renata, for that matter—was that you had a rough situation at home! I didn't give either one of them any specifics!" Cynthia's left hand was clenched into a fist, but she had no idea what she planned to do with it. "I was genuinely proud of you that day! I talked about you for that entire phone call, and do you know why? The _real_ reason why?

"It's because I was proud of you! I've battled seventeen Gym Leaders by now, and Simon's the toughest one I've ever faced. _I_ couldn't beat him on my first try! I barely managed to beat him the second time! It was neck and neck, but not for you. That day, you were everyone's hero: mine, too!"

She could feel her tears slide past her jaw and down the collar of her shirt. Despite her best efforts to hold everything in, she couldn't do it anymore. "I called my grandmother because I wanted to brag about you and she's the kind of person who appreciates victories. She innocently asked me if you were going to call your parents. I said—"

No. She wasn't going to do this anymore. She didn't have to justify her every action. Cyrus was at fault this time. Even if she did spill his secrets to Carolina, Cyrus had no right to eavesdrop on her conversation.

"You know what, Cyrus? I shouldn't have to apologize for something I didn't do."

Her shaky hand slid back into her coat just long enough to pull a folded note out of her pocket. Cyrus recognized it immediately. He'd kept it tucked within the inner depths of his address book. "This fell out when I looked for your family's phone number. You're not the kind of guy who holds onto useless junk, so I figured it was important. I didn't read it. You can check for yourself. All the staples are still there."

By this point, he realized he'd gone way too far. So had she, but somebody needed to apologize. Cyrus tried, but he was temporarily mute.

"I don't know if you think of me as a friend, but I like to think that you do. I know I see you that way, and I hope you know that I never meant to hurt you. I'm very sorry that I did, but…" Cynthia delicately placed the note on the bed, got up, and straightened her coat. "If _this_ is how you treat your friends, then I'm starting to understand why you don't have any waiting for you back in Sunyshore City."

"Cynthia, wait. I—"

But Cynthia shook her head, blonde hair flying everywhere. She wiped her eyes and nose with her sleeve just to get rid of the snot and tears. It left a slimy stripe behind: clear for now but already turning white as it dried. "I'm going to take a bath. Yell or knock on the door if you need me."

Cyrus wanted to say something, but Cynthia slammed the door and locked herself in. He tried to apologize, but his voice was drowned out by the loud bathroom fan. All he could do was murmur his friend's name, realize halfway through that she couldn't hear him, and move the note around in his hands.

Even without opening it, he knew what it was. When Professor Myrtle mailed him his acceptance letter, she had also attached a photocopy of the recommendation letter his robotics teacher wrote for him. Myrtle thought Cyrus might want to read it, but he never had. He'd been saving it for a rainy day…like today.

As soon as he heard the water cut on, he used his fingernails to pry the staples out of the folded square. Once the paper was smoothed over and restored to its original shape, he read what was inside:

 ** _Myrtle,_**

 ** _It is an immense pleasure to recommend my student, Cyrus Akagi, as a potential candidate for your Pokémon migration study. From everything I read about it, I believe he would be a perfect fit._**

 ** _In my three decades of professional experience in robotics, engineering, and programming; no part of me hesitates in admitting that Cyrus is the most talented subordinate I've ever had: be that as an employee or as a student. Although he is only fifteen years old and in his second year of high school, he is taking my senior-level robotics course as an elective. He is, of course, outperforming the seniors and that delights me to no end._**

 ** _In some ways, he reminds me a lot of who I was at that age: young, ambitious, and full of dreams. I sometimes encourage Cyrus to do more than the curriculum demands because I know he can do it. Most of the world has let me down, but he has yet to do so._**

 ** _He has maintained perfect grades in all his STEM courses; but he takes his education one step further than most young men his age. What Cyrus learns, he retains and applies to other fields. He even used advanced statistics in a Literature course, just to prove Joseph Campbell's monomyth theory applies to virtually all of Sinnoh's creation stories. Dr. Angela Newton (our Literature teacher) is a tad religious, so she didn't appreciate that initiative. I, however, asked Cyrus to print me a copy. I can't stand that woman and it tickled me pink to see her feathers get ruffled._**

 ** _This young man is perceptive, analytical, creative, and unafraid to test new theories. He's compelled to understand how things work, whether it's my busted Apricorn II computer that smells like old fish or the forces that hold our very universe together. Although he is one of the youngest members of our Robotics club, Cyrus has never hesitated to share his knowledge with other team members who are struggling._**

 ** _What may also interest you is his willingness to work extra hours when he recognizes its long-term benefit. Last year, our school refused to endorse one of his projects (a device that copied and mimicked Pokémon cries) and cited budget as the reason. When Cyrus pitched the idea to me, I was so fascinated by it that I offered to let him work on it after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays. All he had to do was buy the supplies (which he did) and I supervised him. I just wanted to see if he could make it work._**

 ** _By the end of the semester, he designed a program that recorded the cries of nearby wild Pokémon, fed them into a virtual library, and logged the differences in a database. He later replayed a female Wingull mating call through his speakers and managed to summon an entire flock of overly excited males to the school. I had to pay a couple of professionals to remove all the bird feces from my car and favorite coat, but I was too proud to care about that. My student's invention worked and that mattered far more than anything I could buy!_**

 ** _I fervently believe this bright young man can do anything he sets his mind to. What I admire most about Cyrus is the same reason I feel he will be indispensable for what you hope to accomplish. Whatever expectations you set for him will simply become his baseline. He will outperform beyond your wildest dreams because to him, "enough" is never enough._**

 ** _I have attached my office extension if you wish to contact me, but I trust you'll make the right decision._**

 ** _Your old friend,  
Dr. Char—_**

The last words began to blur when water hit them. It wasn't raining outside, nor was the HVAC dripping from too much humidity. In the first time in what felt like forever; Cyrus could feel the stinging sensation of tears leaving his face.

Once he started the Kinzo internship, it hadn't taken long for Cynthia to take pride in his actions—at least until he outed himself as an insecure, paranoid, eavesdropping prick. She had wanted to be his friend, but he was too broken inside to see or appreciate that until it was too late. Somewhere down the line, he started to misinterpret her behavior as pity because no part of his mind could comprehend the thought of someone else doing anything beyond tolerating his existence.

This letter contradicted that assumption.

Back in Sunyshore City, there was at least one person who believed he could be something great. Dr. Charles Ronald Plutarski pushed him to take this opportunity so he could come back to Sinnoh stronger and more confident than before. He wanted to meet the future Cyrus Akagi, shake his hand, and tell him he'd done well. He'd never forget that man as long as he lived, nor would he ever stop appreciating him.

' _I could call him,_ ' he realized. ' _The room has a phone and_ _it's only 1 PokéDollar a minute. I can accept all the charges because I know his finances are tight._ '

Very gingerly, he made sure he could still read every single digit on the recommendation letter. One by one, he pressed the buttons and heard the dial tone. One…two…

"Thank you for calling Sunyshore Magnet School of Science and Mathematics," an automated female voice replied. "The extension you have dialed is no longer in service. To return to the full faculty directory, please press the pound sign. To return to the main menu…"

Cyrus pressed # and desperately waited for that emotionless, neutral voice to call out his teacher's name, but he never heard it. Dr. Plutarski was gone: _completely_ gone. As that artificial voice continued to go through the directory, repeating itself over and over again, he felt smaller and smaller.

' _What happened? Where are you…?_ '


	40. The Robotics Teacher

**Author's Note: If the last chapter had you wondering something, prepare to have it confirmed in this one.**

 **…**

"I'm home." Rather, Charles had returned to what was left of it.

A long time ago, this house was a hunting lodge for one of Sinnoh's noble families. It had passed through several other hands since then: changing from a lodge to a permanent residence, and again from a permanent residence to a resort. For the past two decades, Dr. Charles Plutarski had sold his childhood home room by room just to keep his finances out of the red.

Although he had lived in the Old Chateau growing up, his family didn't own it. They lived on-site as full time groundskeepers: mostly tending to the exterior maintenance of the estate. They painted the house, mowed the lawn, replaced windows and shutters, fixed the roof, kept the garden beautiful, and did other work as needed. The owner was a surly old spinster who was convinced her nephew's asshole kids were trying to swindle her out of her inheritance. When Ms. Murahoshi finally keeled over and died, she left the entire estate to Charles as one last "fuck you" to her relatives.

By nineteen, he inherited everything. By fifty-five, he only owned the master suite on the second floor.

Shortly after graduate school, he'd wanted to leave his current job and open a start-up company. He took out a business loan, printed multiple newspaper ads, signed a lease for a warehouse, and even began interviewing technical sales people to promote the brand. By the end of that year, the bank repositioned everything because he defaulted on too many payments.

It wasn't even really his fault! Nearly a dozen colleagues had backed his plans and _swore_ they were going to come on board after things settled at their current jobs. Instead; they were promoted, reallocated, and found better opportunities elsewhere. All those so-called "friends" left him high and dry. And while Charles was certainly a smart fellow, he still hadn't figured out how to clone himself. There were some things one man simply couldn't do alone, no matter how intelligent he was.

And then there was his ex-wife's alimony: an astronomical sum for an astronomical pain in his ass. At least their kid was all grown up and he didn't have to pay child support anymore. He wished he'd been in good enough financial shape to help pay for his daughter's college tuition, but he couldn't. Both women had a right to resent him, considering the one thing that made him pleasant—his fortune—dried up a long time ago.

He started renting out parts of the house. Charles initially transformed the Old Chateau into a boarding house, but quickly realized he wasn't cut out to be a slum lord. He empathized too much with his tenants and bought every sob story they fed him. Sometimes he'd let them get away with not paying rent for a month…only to hear the same damn thing next month, too.

Finally, he signed an agreement with a luxury hotel line so his checks would consistently come from one reliable source. They saw a great future in the Old Chateau and reassured Charles that he could still maintain an apartment somewhere within the building. And so long as he promised not to re-enact _The Shining_ during the off season, could even serve as a groundskeeper for the resort.

His quarters became smaller and smaller until all he and his Pokémon legally occupied was the master suite: a bathroom, a bedroom, and a walk-in closet he'd converted into a remote office. When Charles shut the door, he felt like he was sealing himself off into a mausoleum for one. Considering the only other thing in the room was technically a ghost, he wasn't too far off the mark.

He latched the lock and felt his whole body sink. By late middle age, his back was in so much pain that he couldn't straighten it out. Even when he tried to sit upright or fix his posture, he was stuck in a perpetual slouch.

"The teaching job didn't work out, Rotom. I'm back at square one."

Sunyshore Magnet School of Science and Mathematics hadn't paid him much to begin with. He'd only accepted the job because he already exhausted every viable option in Eterna City. Sinnoh was still recovering from the worst economic recession it had experienced since the 1930s. Nearly one fifth of the nation was out of work and actively looking.

The last time the economy tanked that badly; Charles's father—a botanist who was so good at his craft that he could maintain Alolan orchids in Sinnoh's cold climate—couldn't find work with his degree. All he could find was a groundskeeper job at the chateau, and he ended up working it until he died. It was a shitty job, but at least he wasn't in any jeopardy of losing it. Mr. Plutarski would rather keep the sure thing that paid him one third of his actual worth than run the risk of being fired for searching for better opportunities.

Now Charles was feeling that pinch, too. He was a damn good engineer, but most of the companies he interviewed with wanted to hire fresh minds at lower salaries instead of paying an experienced veteran what he was worth. Every time someone called him overqualified, he could feel his blood pressure rise. "Overqualified" meant some snot-nosed neophyte got the position instead because he agreed to work for peanuts. By the time Silph Co. forced Charles to resign, they had started to use that same business model.

 ** _"You misappropriated company assets, Charles. We'll give you thirty days to find something new and turn in an official resignation, but please understand we're only doing that because we think so highly of you. Beyond that point, I'm afraid we'll have to let you go."_**

Misappropriated assets? _What_ assets?! All that company unwittingly provided was a venue: an unused room! Every piece of equipment that Human Resources discovered was something Charles bought on his own dime! Why, he didn't even conduct his studies during company hours! Was it really _that_ big of a deal that he stayed late to test what all devices his darling electric ghost could manipulate? Apparently so!

Eterna City had many fine private schools, but everyone in town knew Charles as the weird scientist who lived in the Old Chateau. He'd garnered too much of a reputation around town for his application to merit anything beyond an immediate rejection. Even if he tried to apply for another academic job, one particularly livid father in Sunyshore City made it abundantly clear he'd never teach again.

"I'm at a loss, old friend." It took a lot to get Charles to cry, but he was on the verge of it. "I don't know what my next move should be."

…

 **Charles Plutarski's boyhood was marked with curiosity, permissiveness, and negligence. From very early on, his parents recognized his natural talents. They knew they were raising a prodigy, so they encouraged every shred of curiosity he expressed.**

 **If he wanted to set traps to keep wild Pokémon off the lawn, he could do so. If he wanted to study those Pokémon, he could do so…so long as it was in the garage and the landlady never saw him do it. If he wanted to disassemble a machine and study its parts before attempting to put it back together again, nobody would stop him.**

 **There were only a few rules: don't touch the antiques, don't make a mess in the house, don't be too noisy, and don't do anything to upset Ms. Murahoshi. So long as Charles obeyed those rules, he could do as he pleased with next to no discipline. At least, that was the case at home. His private school believed in corporal punishment. If his plump little rump was ever paddled, it was always by a teacher.**

 **When Charles reminisced, he liked to imagine he was an appreciative child. In retrospect, he suspected he'd probably been an insufferable, arrogant little snot. That would explain why neither parent spent much time with him and simply offered blind, blanketed praise each time he made a breakthrough.**

 **Eventually, he caught on. No matter what he did, they were always going to endorse it. It was just easier to smile and applaud than actually listen to anything their little wunderkind had to say.**

 **…**

 **Several children started their Pokémon journeys at ten. Charles showed no interest in that sort of thing until he turned twelve and better understood what Rotom was capable of. Once he realized his beloved playmate could change its secondary type based on whatever appliance it inhabited, he relentlessly pressured his parents to approve the journey.**

 **The Plutarskis were hesitant. Neither one of them liked the idea of their only child gallivanting across Sinnoh with just a tiny, toy-sized Pokémon for protection. For Arceus's sake, it had electrocuted him before! And even if Rotom could protect their son from other Pokémon, what about other people?**

 **They were honest, hard-working nobodies; but the woman they worked for had made many enemies over the years. Ms. Murahoshi graciously offered to hire an older trainer to supervise Charles, but he ended up sweet-talking her out of it. Begrudgingly, his parents finally caved to his whims and turned him loose.**

 **That was probably the most magical year of his life.**

 **Some trainers took their time to build up a diverse team and strategized their way to victory. Others bred "perfect" Pokémon and relied on the creature's genetic superiority to win. Most of them just wanted their adventure to last forever, so they were in no rush to end it.**

 **Charles was more of a "hit and run" trainer. He and Rotom rushed from town to town, pushing over anyone and anything that dared to get in their way. If a Gym Leader had a type advantage, all he had to do was turn his Pokémon loose in a department store. Rotom always managed to find something.**

 **Wherever they went, weird stories began to circulate. An ice cream truck took off without anyone driving it. A terrified woman claimed her oven stomped out of her kitchen, but not before chucking her casserole at the wall. Later that week, an old man who owned a laundromat swore up and down that one of his machines walked off and took a load of soggy clothes with it. When an older boy beat up Charles and stole his wallet, the kid came home to find his lawnmower was alive and out for blood. It chased him all the way down the street.**

 **Some days, it felt like he'd befriended a cryptid rather than a Pokémon. Charles was comfortably okay with that.**

 **Several children in the Pokémon Centers whined about how hard the Sinnoh gyms were and how long it took to train up a new Pokémon. Charles didn't end up making a lot of friends while he was out there, mostly because he was a little too proud of his Pokémon and wouldn't shut up about it.**

 **By winter, he'd earned his sixth badge and caught two other Pokémon: a Tangela and a Slowpoke. They weren't anything special: just buffers to give Rotom a much-needed break. Since he didn't want to spend the holidays alone in a Pokémon Center, Charles headed back to Eterna City to surprise his family.**

 **When he arrived, the property was blocked off with yellow tape. Flashing blue lights flickered in the driveway and the entire chateau was teeming with police. Terrified, Charles rushed toward the front door and was caught at the last minute by an officer. But even as he screamed for these people to let him inside to see his parents; the sympathetic expressions on the police officers' faces told him what he feared most: it wasn't going to matter.**

 **Even with sheets over them, he knew the two body bags being carried out the side door were his mother and father.**

 **According to the police report filed a few days later, the murder was a robbery gone wrong. Some burglars decided to loot the chateau while Ms. Murahoshi was on vacation. They were about ready to leave the house when Mr. Plutarski tried to stop them. His loyalty ended up costing not only his life, but also his wife's.**

 **The homicide detective had more details, but Charles found it impossible to follow along. He was so distraught that everything the woman said sounded like white noise.**

 **…**

Years turned into decades and people forgot about him. An older couple recognized Charles in the grocery store, but that was about it. He'd grown from being the boy who lived in the Old Chateau to the town's resident mad scientist. He jokingly told people he preferred the term "angry engineer," but his humor was lost on them. They didn't get it.

"I know I was gone for an unforgivable length of time," he apologized to his Pokémon, "but I suppose it's all moot, eh? There's not much point in moving to Sunyshore City without a job."

Rotom didn't care why Charles was back. It was just happy to see him. All he had to do was walk through that door and the Pokémon bounced from appliance to appliance in absolute merriment. When it jumped into the microwave, it ended up shorting the motherboard. Even after it left, the machine still smelled like something inside it was burning.

Oh well. He supposed he wasn't going to heat up that frozen TV dinner after all. An old college buddy was in town and wanted to meet up for drinks. As much as Charles hated to mooch, he'd probably have to ask if they could split a snack: wings, fries or something. His cardiologist was going to raise hell with him for that, but he honestly didn't care.

"I told someone about you," he confessed as he sat in his recliner. Every spring in the seat groaned under his weight. Over thirty years of instant cup noodles, junk food, soda, and alcohol hadn't been kind to his body; but he'd rather put more effort into his work than take the time to cook something healthy. It was a matter of convenience, and he'd once again screwed himself over in the process.

Rotom's blue sparks crackled in curiosity. It smiled at its human and whirled around him, but Charles knew the difference between a mischievous grin and a polite smile of concern. Rotom was probably afraid that this new friend would do what some of Charles's old "friends" tried to do: steal it and publish their own articles, all in the name of science.

In Charles's eyes, Rotom was truly one of a kind. He'd never met another one in the wild. As a boy, he'd tell anyone who would listen that he discovered a new species. Once acquaintances evolved into friends, he'd show off his Pokémon and brag profusely about all the neat things it could do. Some kids looked at him with excitement in their eyes. Others showed signs of jealousy, but bit their tongues and forced themselves to congratulate him instead.

College was different. Most of his fellow students pushed him to go public with his findings. They warned him that a professor or rival student might take credit for his work if he didn't. Charles wanted to be famous and to have his research taken seriously, but he never could bring himself to submit the article. His roommate, Rowan, was a Pokémon Biology major and warned him about what typically happened to newly discovered species.

The thought of even temporarily surrendering Rotom to a laboratory scared him like nothing else. In the end, Charles backed out and decided to keep his discovery a selective secret. Being able to keep his Pokémon was more important than seeing his name in a magazine.

"But don't worry, Rotom. I trust Cyrus will keep our secret. He's a good kid." He was no longer in Sunyshore City, either. He was off in Kinzo somewhere: studying Pokémon migration patterns and challenging some of the toughest gym leaders in existence.

Charles hoped the internship would help the boy gain enough confidence to stop second-guessing his talents. He was already bright. In a more encouraging environment, he could be brilliant. Charles had tried to give him additional mentorship at school, but it wasn't like he could be there 24/7. He wasn't Cyrus's father and, unfortunately, Alexander Akagi was a verbally abusive sack of shit.

When Rowan first told Charles about Professor Myrtle's internship, it was because he'd written a letter of recommendation for a girl in Celestic Town who helped him with the Sinnoh Pokédex project a few years ago. The more he talked about the Kinzo expedition, the more Charles began to think Cyrus would be a good fit, too.

Not only did he write a letter for his prize pupil, but he'd even followed up with Myrtle to increase the boy's chances of being selected. Why, he'd even given Cyrus a lift to the airport in the dead of night; just to make sure he didn't miss his flight! At the time, Charles felt like he was rescuing that poor kid from a bad home.

It was more support than he'd ever received.

 **…**

 **For years, Charles had heard cranky old Ms. Murahoshi gripe about her family. They only visited her when they needed money, and they'd tried for years to convince her to leave the house and "retire" to a nursing home. She vehemently refused, but it became increasingly difficult to maintain the whole estate alone.**

 **Although the Plutarskis were hardly perfect and sometimes butted heads with Ms. Murahoshi, they had still lost their lives trying to defend her precious house. When she took Charles in as her ward, she insisted it was because his parents were "good people" and she wanted to do right by their memory. He didn't believe that. She just wanted a new caretaker to boss around.**

 **His Sinnoh journey came to a screeching halt because the spinster's health continued to decline. She needed somebody to stay in the house at least for a few hours each day. As a result, all Charles could do was attend school, run errands, and come home to take care of Her Entitled and Somewhat Senile Highness.**

 **When the old hag fell down the stairs and broke her hip, her family rushed over to be with her. Once they realized Charles was poised to inherit the house, they stopped treating him like the help. If anything, they tried to kiss his ass so much that he felt a bit sick. Was he even a person in their eyes, or just competition?**

 **Cynicism poisoned what few friendships he managed to keep. He suspected everyone in the world carried some sort of ulterior motive. Sometimes he'd test that theory by being a jackass to any girl unfortunate enough to fancy him, just to see if she'd make excuses for him when he deserved none.**

 **They were so transparent. He saw through it all. The only genuine love in his life came from Rotom and he bitterly acknowledged that.**

 **When Charles turned seventeen, his academic advisor insisted he finish his college applications. That way, he could go into his final year knowing what came next. He already knew what he wished to declare (a double major in electrical engineering and computer science), where he wished to declare it (Celadon University), and where he eventually wished to work (the Silph Corporation in Saffron City).**

 **Silph was becoming a household name worldwide. They were designing capture balls that could be mass-produced, as well as software that could force Pokémon to learn moves they'd never be able to master in the wild or through selective breeding. The corporation even planned to create a virtual Pokémon to help with Kanto's space program! Charles wanted in on that and he was excited to go down that path.**

 **That said; he suspected Ms. Murahoshi didn't care about his ambitions, let alone himself.**

 **"I'm thinking about taking a year off," Charles lied. "Maybe I'll see more of the world and decide college isn't for me." He expected an argument, or at least some expressed concern. It didn't come.**

 **"I think that's a wonderful idea," the old woman insisted. "I think it would be wise for you to experience other cultures, meet new people, and go to college with a more worldly perspective. And if you decide college isn't in the cards for you, I'm leaving enough money for you to live the remainder of your days in comfort…provided you continue to care for me."**

 **Ah, yes: her one caveat. Ms. Murahoshi was terrified of nursing homes and wanted to avoid having an in-house nurse as long as possible. Instead, she wanted Charles to fix her food, keep her house clean, do her laundry, drive her all around the city, and even wipe her wrinkly, withered ass. She'd become incontinent sometime last year, and he was sworn to secrecy.**

 **Any little thing could set off the old socialite's paranoia. If Charles came home late, introduced Ms. Murahoshi to a date, or talked too much about his future; she'd shut him down. There wasn't going to be a future until she was gone and she'd destroy him if he tried to hurry her up.**

 **Her gnarled hands shakily clutched a cup of tea. He kept expecting her to drop it. "Yes, Charles. So long as you are happy, you can afford to do anything; even if that ends up being nothing at all."**

 **That was no challenge. That bored him!**

 **"I had another idea," he mused aloud, still being dishonest. "Another part of me wishes to become a professor at Canalave University."**

 **"How lovely. What subject were you thinking to pursue, dear?"**

 **"I've given it ample thought. I'm leaning toward Literary Criticism."**

 **It was a degree Charles knew could only be used in college-level academia and cranked out nearly three times as many graduates as it had open positions. If he did that, the most he could expect was an adjunct position in a community college, teaching disinterested first-years as part of a General Education requirement.**

 **"Specifically, I thought I'd write my dissertation on the importance of numerology in late 19th Century Galarian poetry."**

 **Numerology was a completely bogus, useless, nonsensical study. He'd used it as a crutch once on a literature class's assignment for a particularly dry, flowery, boring poem. He had no clue what the poem was about, nor did he care enough about the assignment to find out.**

 **Instead, Charles decided to play an elaborate joke on his teacher. He looked up what the ancients used to believe each number represented, counted the syllables for each line, and wrote nearly eight pages on the "hidden message" contained within the poem. He'd intentionally bullshitted his teacher, only for it to backfire.**

 **His teacher called him a genius, said it was a breath of fresh air to read something _new_ for a change, and that he'd actually learned something! After that, Charles doubted Ms. Murahoshi was really getting her money's worth out of his education. He may as well have told her that he wished to write a dissertation on underwater basket weaving.**

 **"That sounds prestigious. Good for you, Charles. You'll be marvelous!"**

 **When she finally died, Charles cried all the way to the bank.**

 **…**

At Cyrus's age, all Charles wanted was a mentor: a well-educated adult who would take a genuine interest in his future. All he had was a cantankerous crone who only understood about one fourth of the technobabble he blathered at her. Even then, it didn't take long for Ms. Murahoshi's eyes to gloss over in disinterest. By that point, she would merely punctuate Charles's excited monologues with the occasional "uh huh" and "I see."

When he became a high school teacher, Charles vowed he'd find a talented kid and be the kind of mentor he'd always wished for. He came into every class with as much passion and enthusiasm as he could muster. It wasn't like he was stuck teaching something mundane like Shop or Home Economics. This was Robotics: something he lived and breathed since before he met Rotom! It was a far cry from his dream job and the pay wasn't all that great, but the kids didn't need to know that.

That wasn't important. Their futures were.

Since it was a magnet school, Charles expected nothing but good students. He wasn't disappointed. This school exclusively taught eastern Sinnoh's best and brightest. There were no dumb kids in his class, let alone the school. But as much as Charles liked to see children try their best and he liked to praise his little geniuses, only one or two of them wormed their way into his heart.

Cyrus Akagi definitely had. Sure, some of his classmates thought he was weird because he never made eye contact with them. He also spent all of freshman year completely silent, save for when Dr. Plutarski directly addressed him. He was always the first to turn in assignments but the last to turn in quizzes and tests. He'd overthink the questions and psych himself out because everything had to be perfect.

Anything other than a perfect 100% could devastate him. His mouth would turn into a flat line and his eyes would look a bit shinier than usual. On those days, the kid would stay after class and want to talk about the question he missed. What worried Charles most was how Cyrus phrased it. It was less a case of, "Why was this marked wrong?" but rather, "What did I do wrong?"

It wasn't until the end of the first semester that Charles realized how much pressure was being placed on Cyrus at home. That poor kid didn't have time for friends: just extracurricular activities that would boost his chances of being accepted into a nicer college. He didn't have hobbies: just cram school. Robotics was the first elective where the Akagis didn't pressure their son to choose something else and he wanted to come back next year. Without a perfect score, they weren't going to permit it.

Charles didn't want to lose his favorite student over something so petty, so he asked Cyrus what he expected him to do. It wasn't like he could falsify a perfect score and knowingly mark a wrong answer as correct, just to keep him. Cyrus even agreed that he didn't want that, either.

In the end, the boy asked if he could make up any wrong answers by doing an extra credit project. Charles jumped on that idea because he believed every gifted child deserved to be nurtured. With an audience, they could flourish and contribute great things to society when they grew up. If they suffered in silence, they could warp into something distorted and dark.

 **…**

 **Getting into Celadon University cost a small fortune, but only because Charles turned down his scholarship.**

 **Initially, the college offered to pay all of his tuition and boarding expenses. His only out-of-pocket expenses would be his textbooks, meal plan, and travel costs. If his parents were still alive, he would have wept tears of joy over the acceptance letter and taken the offer without hesitation.**

 **But that wasn't the case anymore. His parents were dead and so was Ms. Murahoshi. The old hag had left him enough money to make a Sableye jealous. Theoretically; he could pay full tuition, live in a nice apartment, and eat good food every night until he finished graduate school.**

 **As fun as it would be to brag about his full ride, he couldn't accept it in good conscience. If he took that scholarship, he'd be stealing an opportunity from someone every bit as brilliant as himself but nowhere near as fortunate. As tragic as it was, some geniuses lived their entire lives undiscovered and unappreciated.**

 **Wanting to do the right thing, Charles called the dean and asked if it was possible to transfer his scholarship to an applicant who otherwise wouldn't be able to afford the tuition. The dean not only thanked Charles for his generosity; but informed him that the money would be given to a young Kinzonian man who wanted to enter the engineering program.**

 **As soon as he heard the applicant was Kinzonian, Charles knew he'd done the right thing. He couldn't turn on the news without hearing about the civil war going on in that frozen hellhole.**

 **The tsar abdicated his throne when the Western War of Royal Houses was over, but Kinzo still wanted him dead. Then, less than a year ago, some war-happy zealot managed to slaughter every member of the Zykova imperial family except the tsarevich. He then declared Kinzo would be reborn as a communist regime. It was a hostile takeover with a slew of casualties, rampant riots, and constant threats toward any nation that refused to recognize Kinzo as a legitimate entity.**

 **If Charles had been a selfish ass and kept the scholarship for himself, there was no telling what kind of horrors this other student would have had to endure. Instead, this lucky fellow would get to fly an entire world away to study engineering in safe, cozy Celadon City. This was more than a golden opportunity. This was a way out!**

 **Naturally, once school started, Charles was determined to find this student. Every time he had a class in the engineering building, he lingered in the halls a bit longer than most, listening carefully in the hopes he'd hear a Kinzonian accent. By his second semester, he did.**

 **Harlan Vetrov Lobachevsky was a short, skinny, nerdy-looking fellow with bad posture, a big nose, and the complexion of a plant deprived of sunlight. His hair looked like dead grass, his glasses were thick enough to leave permanent pressure marks on his pale and freckled face, and his shoulders always looked slightly hunched.**

 **His accent was thick, too: like the auditory equivalent of molasses. Although he could communicate in the international language, he had a habit of dropping words like _the_ , _his_ , _an_ , and so on. If he and Charles made a trip off campus to buy groceries, Harlan would say things like, "Get in car." And when Charles screwed up, "You must feel like idiot," became quite common.**

 **Some of Charles's other friends thought it made Harlan sound ignorant, but Charles was more impressed that he could read, write, and communicate in another language. That was more than he could do! Harlan had generously offered to teach him Kinzonian, but Charles struggled as soon as he realized they didn't even share the same alphabet.**

 **After final exams were over, most students headed home to spend the holidays with their families. For obvious reasons, Harlan planned to stay on campus. When Charles told his Kinzonian friend that he intended to do the same, he seemed confused. "I don't have any family to go home to, Harlan. I'd rather stay here than go home to an empty house."**

 **"Tch. At least you _have_ house," Harlan replied, cigarette wedged tightly between his thin lips. "I spent first twelve years of life in orphanage."**

 **Charles lost his parents when he was twelve. That really struck a chord with him.**

 **…**

 **Near the end of the year, everyone started pairing up to register as roommates. Harlan had quickly become one of Charles's favorite people; but he was a bit too scared of the local gossip to live with his Kinzonian friend.**

 **Harlan's current roommate told everyone who would listen that he hoarded his leftovers and stashed them under the bed. Sometimes he'd eat them later. Other times, the food would stay down there until it rotted. They kept the window open at all times just to get rid of the stench, but that attracted Grimers.**

 **Somebody else claimed that a student from a nearby frat house was in the infirmary because Harlan stabbed him between the ribs with a mechanical pencil. Charles called bullshit on that one. If Harlan had actually done that, he would have been expelled, arrested, and possibly even deported.**

 **That said, Harlan did have a temper and often got into fights. If he felt like he'd been backed into a corner, he'd fight back.**

 **For that reason, Charles took his chances with the housing lottery and ended up rooming with a some guy he'd never met before: a Pokémon Biology major named Rowan.**

 **…**

"Were things alright while I was away?"

Rotom's electric blue eyes blinked at him slowly. They never managed to find a way to speak the same language, but Charles felt he understood his Pokémon anyway. Things had been boring without him, he supposed. Rotom liked to watch TV and play pranks, but the guests in the other rooms couldn't be trusted. All the Pokémon could really do until Charles came back was sabotage an appliance or two, just for shits and giggles. That got old rather quickly.

But if things had been bad rather than merely boring, Rotom would have accidentally electrocuted Charles. The little thing could have quite a temper!

"Well, I hate to leave you again, but—wait! Waaaaaait!" The light blue sparks nearly doubled in size. Charles could hear an ominous humming noise coming from his Pokémon. His analog TV flickered on and off and an entire roll of green and white striped computer paper whirled out of his printer. "Calm down, would you?! I'm only meeting Rowan for dinner!"

The sparks dissipated, but Rotom floated away to go sulk somewhere else in the building. It would be back. It just wanted to give Charles the cold shoulder for a while.

Fine. He'd take this opportunity to see if any of Rowan's aides knew the name and room number for his hotel. That way, he could head over and meet him before it got too dark outside. Charles knew the Sandgem Town Pokémon Laboratory number by heart, as well as their super boring hold music. Some days, he'd have to wait nearly ten minutes before somebody picked up. Other times, it could take less than a minute.

This time, it only took ten seconds.

When the video part of the phone turned on, Charles was face to face with a young dark-haired man he didn't recognize. "Bonjour! This is the Sandgem Town Pokémon Lab. Professor Sycamore speaking."

"Professor?" Charles frowned and gave this "Sycamore" person a wary look. Had he introduced himself as an aide or assistant professor, this wouldn't have been as big of a deal. Now he had to wonder if Rowan was retiring! That would be unacceptable! "Professor of _what_ , may I ask?"

"Ah ha ha ha…" the pretty-boy professor rubbed the back of his neck and tried to give Charles a friendly smile, but it was obvious he was a bit nervous. "I'm a regional Pokémon professor, sir; just like Professor Rowan. But don't worry! I represent another region! Were you trying to reach him? I'm afraid he's in Eterna City right now."

"Visiting an old college buddy, right? I know. We're supposed to have dinner tonight. I just wanted to see if anyone at the lab knows where he's staying so I can pick him up."

"Oooooh! You must be Dr. Plutarski!" Sycamore leaned closer to the screen and beamed at Charles. The younger man's gray eyes not only sparkled, but seemed to grow twice as large. "I actually have a message for you! The professor wants to eat at the restaurant with the good seafood hotpot thing."

"Kid, it has a name."

 _Pastoria Nabe_ was a Sinnohan delicacy: an aluminum hotpot dish with a miso and fish-based broth, onions, cabbage, fish balls, bony Whiscash pieces, roe, mushrooms, and tofu. Back in college, Charles and Rowan searched high and low to find a Sinnohan restaurant in urban Kanto. When they finally found a tiny sushi bar that served a few traditional dishes, they vowed to eat there once a month to combat their homesickness. It didn't surprise him in the slightest that Rowan would want to do that tonight.

"Did he say when?"

"Yes, sir. He's expecting you at 7:00 PM. Have fun catching up! Professor Rowan talks about you a lot. He's said nothing but wonderful things about you!"

' _Funny_ ,' Charles thought as Sycamore said goodbye and hung up. ' _He never said a damn thing about you._ '

 **…**

 **At first, it was just Harlan and himself. After Rowan joined the posse, the conversations moved beyond foreign affairs and engineering to include Pokémon biology, too. Rowan was fascinated by the various ways Pokémon could evolve—so much so, in fact, that he had aspirations of becoming a professor someday.**

 **Alcohol had a habit of turning Charles into an even bigger chatterbox than he already was. By his third beer, he was telling his roommate that he was brilliant enough to teach at any college he wanted. "And it might _also_ interest you to know that you're sharing a dorm with someone who discovered a new Pokémon species!"**

 **Sometimes, Rowan could be hard to read. His face tended to rest into an expression reminiscent of a scowl, even when he was in a good mood. "Mmhmm…" That one little noise was enough for Charles to know that Rowan didn't believe him. He was calling bullshit.**

 **Harlan raised an asparagus-colored eyebrow, not really believing his friend either. "Да уж? This is first _I've_ heard of new Pokémon. Why you not tell me?"**

 **"Maybe because it never came up before, Harlan!" Charles snorted as he pulled out a small, worn-out notebook. "All my notes about it are in here. I've been studying this Pokémon since I encountered it as a boy!" Rowan reached for the notebook, mildly curious to see what was inside, but Charles gently pushed his hand aside. "I don't mind you reading this, but you can't tell anyone."**

 **" _You_ just did," Harlan huffed.**

 **"I'm serious! Rotom's my friend. I don't know what would happen if I went public about this. Do you, Rowan?"**

 **Rowan very gently took the notebook into his hands and began scanning the contents. "I do," he answered firmly. "And I think that you're making the right call by not going public with this. Charles, if you published this, other scientists would want to study your Pokémon. I can't even guarantee that you'd get it back."**

 **"Yeah…yeah, I was afraid of that…" Charles took the notebook back and hugged it close to his body. He should have felt better with Rowan validating his worries, but all he could focus on was how Harlan kept looking at the notebook.**

 **…**

The drive from Eterna Forest to Eterna City was pretty but mind-numbingly dull. Very few people drove through the woods, but some of the wild Pokémon that lived there were scared of cars. If their eyes met the headlights; their bodies would freeze, unable to move away. As a result, Charles drove well below the speed limit and kept his eyes out. The last thing he wanted was to hit a giant bug with his shitty little coupe.

To avoid falling asleep behind the wheel, he cranked up the volume on the radio. Most of the stations he got out here were talk radio programs from Jubilife City: mostly chasing various celebrities around Sinnoh. Other than that, there was a classical music station (which he knew would put him to sleep), a Top 40 pop station, and a station that played enka music and old pop ballads.

That station was playing a newer cover of Boy and his Lapras: a song that had been very popular during his grad school days:

 _Love the ones you have lost.  
Love the times you knew.  
Now new life has come along and  
It needs your love, too._

 _Rippling waves will bring me home:  
Back to where life starts.  
Rippling waves will bring with me  
My beloveds' hearts…_

As the singer continued to croon, some of Charles's previous anxieties began to melt away. There was nothing quite like nostalgia to put him in a better mood.

Those bright college days felt so far away now. Since then, he had shrunk five centimeters, gained nearly 45 kilos, and lost half of his lavender-colored hair to bad diet, stress, and his sedentary lifestyle. Rowan still had a full head and an impressive mustache, but he'd gone completely white. And even though he liked to take long walks and stayed active, he'd developed a tiny bit of a gut.

But looking back, those truly were Charles's happiest days: back when all he had to worry about were exams, projects, and whether or not his friends would go to the Student Union to watch crappy B-Movies without him. Now he had to worry about credit card debt, alimony, medical bills, and how long this latest bout of unemployment would last.

In time, everyone graduated. Harlan landed some kind of government contract and went back to Kinzo. Rowan enrolled in Canalave University's graduate program to increase his chances of becoming Sinnoh's next Pokémon professor. As soon as Charles graduated, Silph Co. promoted him from a QC Technician to a Quality Engineer. They wanted him to move to Saffron City and become more involved in their Research & Development team.

Harlan dropped all contact with his old college friends, but Rowan kept in touch. Charles even met up with him on occasion. He'd fly out to Sinnoh when he felt homesick, or Rowan would call to say he'd been invited to attend a conference in Kanto. They'd meet up somewhere, get drinks, and reminisce about old times. This was just another one of those visits: nothing out of the ordinary.

Still, the prospect of seeing Rowan again excited Charles so much that he nearly forgot to pull down the parking brake. Once he left his car, he rushed into the diner and looked everywhere for Rowan. His friend was neatly tucked away in a booth on the far right. Rowan had already purchased a couple of beers for the table and was telling the waitress what he wanted to add to their hotpot.

There was no point in sneaking up on him. Charles rushed over with both arms outstretched, eager for a hug. "Rowan, you old Arcanine! How the hell are you?!"

Although Rowan got up, he didn't hug Charles back. He'd never been a touchy feely sort of fellow. "Aside from the total disappointment I had in Veilstone City yesterday, I'm alright."

' _Disappointment, huh?_ ' Charles thought, trying his best to hold in his own sarcastic remarks. ' _Let me guess: the department store didn't have your precious junk food? Boo hoo, Rowan. Poooooor you!_ '

"I figured that since Eterna City is only a two hour drive out of the way; I'd stay here tonight, catch up with you, and head out at first light. What about you, Charles?"

"Eh?"

"Last I heard, you were teaching robotics at some fancy school in Sunyshore City. How is that working out for you?"

"Er…well…" Charles eased himself into the other side of the booth and forced out a laugh. " _Fuyah hya hya hya_ …you know what they say, Rowan. Those who can't and all that…"

He felt like a failure. Either the world was determined to let him fail or he was inadvertently setting himself up for further disappointment. There was no cushion to support his interests anymore, be that financial or emotional. His wife left him for somebody more important. His daughter wanted nothing to do with him. His favorite student was off in Kinzo. He was unemployed. And right now, there wasn't even a guarantee that tomorrow would be any better than the miserable, soul-crushing present.

"Apparently, I can't even teach. I got canned a couple of weeks ago."

But if he had to do it all over again, he still would have helped Cyrus. If that poor kid stayed with his parents, he'd be emotionally dead by 20. Either Cyrus Akagi would burn out and kill himself or he'd go ballistic and take as many people down with him as he could. Neither prospect was anything Charles wanted to entertain, especially since he saw so much promise in that boy.

"My reputation hasn't exactly endeared me in Eterna City, either. Nobody wants to hire me. They're even talking about shutting down the hotel by the end of the year." The Old Chateau was too far from the city, too deep into the woods, and supposedly too haunted to lend itself as a regularly visited hotel. Since Charles came back from Sunyshore City, he'd only encountered two guests in the entire house.

"Silph Co. let me go last year because I _supposedly_ violated company security policies." Charles still didn't understand why his secret lab was such a big deal to them. Perhaps he didn't understand because nobody placed boundaries on his actions until it was much too late: once he'd already grown into a maladjusted adult who thought this sort of behavior was acceptable.

"And this time, I got the boot for helping one of my students run away from an abusive home. I don't regret doing that, though. If getting blackballed in the oh-so-prestigious field of secondary education is the price I have to pay for doing the right thing, then so be it. It's just…Rowan, there's more to it than that…"

Rowan stared at his friend, more than a little taken aback by just how much information Charles was dumping. He had seen the secret Silph Co. lab during a Saffron City visit. He'd voiced his concerns to Charles back then, but Charles insisted that it was only going to be an issue if Silph fixed the elevator…and it had been out of order for four years.

He also knew that Charles applied for teaching jobs mostly for the benefits and the long seasonal breaks. Nobody got rich being a teacher, but at least he'd have access to better doctors and have longer holidays for his side projects. But now, even that was off the table.

"I think I've been blacklisted," Charles confessed as he reached for one of the beers. "While I was teaching, I floated my résumé to the Devon Corporation and a few other tech firms in the quad. You know how it goes. It doesn't matter if you're from Kanto, Johto, Hoenn, or Sinnoh. The best people are willing to commute to all four. I was all for it.

"But after what happened with my student, Devon suddenly changed their mind about interviewing me. I can't prove Cyrus's mother had anything to do with it, but Nichole Akagi is a Vice President."

That dead-eyed, skeletal harpy probably told HR to shred his résumé. He wouldn't put anything past the Akagis.

"I even reached out to some old college buddies to see if their companies were hiring. Undine Enterprises went belly up. I already told you about the Devon situation. I even thought about contacting my old boss to see if Silph would take me back for the Master Ball project. At this point, I'm even willing to apologize for the unauthorized lab."

"Charles…"

"There's still _some_ chance they haven't found someone with my credentials, right? If I can't do that, then—"

"Charles, stop." Rowan reached across the table and pushed his friend's thick arm down. He didn't want to see Charles torture his liver any further. "I hate to say it, but you just named every major Pokémon tech company in the quad. Rightly or wrongly, you've garnered too much of a reputation. Have you considered introducing yourself to more, ahem, exotic companies? Alola, perhaps? Or maybe Kalos? It seems to be a hotbed for tech startups."

The scent of seafood hotpot began to waft from the center of the table. Charles's stomach made a loud and impatient noise, mostly because he hadn't eaten lunch. His blood sugar was rather low and he could feel a headache coming on, but it was so hard to concentrate on food when he was this stressed out.

"I don't know their mother tongues," he admitted, his face turning red. "I know everyone's fluent in the international language; but you don't get as far in interviews if you don't know the country's native language, too." And if it was a shot between hiring a foreigner or a native citizen, most places weren't going to bother looking at foreigners. The paperwork was too complicated and the liabilities were too high. "I think I know enough Kinzonian to hold a conversation with a kindergartner, but I never want to go there again."

"No?" Rowan asked, raising one of his eyebrows.

"No," Charles repeated. "And you know damn well why."

…

 **"What do you mean somebody published research on this Pokémon?! Rotom is a brand new discovery: a—"**

 **The receptionist for Sinnoh's branch of _Pokémon Scientific_ seemed quite used to being yelled at. She kept her mousy brown hair neatly tied back in a snood and gave Charles a mildly apologetic (but mostly annoyed) look. "We do our research _on_ our research, Dr. Plutarski. It's how we make sure nobody writes an article that's already been published. And I'm telling you: we already know about that Pokémon."**

 **That was impossible! The discovery of a new Pokémon would take the world by storm! If someone else had discovered a Rotom, then he certainly would have heard about it!**

 **"I don't believe you!" Charles was a bit ashamed of himself for having lost his composure so easily, but he couldn't help it. Finding Rotom was the greatest thing that ever happened to him. Its discovery validated his entire existence! Without proper credit for that, what would differentiate the great genius Charles Plutarski from anyone else!? "And I refuse to believe it until I read it with my own eyes!"**

 **"Are you seriously going to make me go back there and look for the article, sir?"**

 **"YES, I AM, YOU DIPPY DOUGH-HEAD! I don't think you understand how important this is! I dedicated my LIFE to studying Rotom! If somebody else plagiarized my research, I need to know!" And when he found the two-faced sneaky shit-Sneasel who stole credit for his big break, he'd have the bastard crucified in court.**

 **The receptionist rolled her eyes and put one hand on her slightly-too-wide hip. "Did you ever hear that old adage about not killing the messenger? Hmph!" She stomped out of her office chair and muttered something rude under her breath. "Hold on. I know it's in here somewhere…"**

 **As the woman pulled entire folios of magazines down from the shelves, Charles realized that he may have gone overboard with his tantrum. She didn't deserve to be the sounding board for his frustration. It wasn't _her_ fault that she had her facts wrong! He was just about to apologize, but then she came back with a magazine in hand…and an _I told you so_ smile on her lips.**

 **"Here we are, Dr. Plutarski: April 1965." What the hell!? That was almost fifteen years ago! "Please turn to Page 43."**

 **Charles didn't even have to open the magazine because there it was, in the bottom left corner of the cover: _Gremlins Exist! Electric Ghost Pokémon Found in Kinzo Region_. "No…no, no. This can't…this isn't right!" But morbid curiosity got the best of him. **

**He hurried through the pages, nearly ripping a few out to get to Page 43. Sure enough, that was definitely a Rotom in those pictures. It wasn't _his_ Rotom, but it was certainly the same Pokémon. With every paragraph, Charles's spirit broke a little more.**

 **As he flipped through the notes, he mentally confirmed every statement the scientist reported to the magazine. Rotom was a shy Pokémon that liked to hide inside electronics. It only came out around people it trusted. Being touched by Rotom's visible electricity was roughly the same amount of power as grabbing hold of an electric fence. But then the story stopped sounding familiar.**

 **The author claimed he encountered a Rotom while trying to buy a drink from a vending machine. At first, the machine refused to accept some coins and spat them back out. Later, when the author tried again; the machine dropped two cans instead of one. When the author reach for his drink, the machine chucked a third can at his head and nearly knocked him out. When he hit the ground, he heard a mischievous snicker and saw a face appear on the front of the machine.**

 **"But I found mine in the '40s…" Charles murmured, feeling his entire face turn hot. When he blinked, his eyes stung and he could feel his nose start to run: a sure sign that he was on the verge of tears. He hadn't been upset enough to cry since his divorce. "I've had it with me since my childhood! Who on earth—"**

 **On the very final page of the article was a photo of the Rotom's discoverer. Charles ended up dropping the magazine because even after all these years, he recognized the author. He was much older and fatter, but that was definitely Harlan Vetrov _Motherfucking_ Lobachevsky.**

 **Harlan's hairline had begun to recede, so he hid it behind some thick side-parted bangs. His horn-rimmed glasses were upgraded to a pair of aviators with thick green plastic frames. His skinny frame had filled out, showing a bit of paunch beneath his Celadon University pull-over. And with middle age also came a pair of jowls so thick that they'd put a Snubbull to shame.**

 **His smile hadn't changed, though. It was every bit as smarmy as Charles remembered.**

 **…**

 **It was nothing short of a miracle that the operator found Harlan's number. Not only was this an international call, but the Kinzonian government was very particular about who could (and could not) place outgoing calls, especially to Sinnoh. The last time Charles and Harlan talked, Harlan was studying alternative energy sources for the Kinzonian government. Maybe the fact he could accept international calls meant he'd climbed up the ranks since then.**

 **When Charles heard the dial tone, a horrible sensation began to build in his chest. It felt like his heart sprouted arms and was trying to claw its way out of his body. The whole back of his neck broke into a cold sweat. What was he even going to say?**

 **The whole way to the pay phone, he'd been seething with rage. With every step, he built up another grievance that Harlan had caused him by publishing that article. Once he made it to the phone, Charles had mentally comprised his own rendition of the Ninety-Five Theses.**

 **Each tolling of that electronic bell only made Charles's resolve crumble further. What if Harlan denied any wrongdoing? What if he tried to justify his actions? After all, it wasn't like Charles ever published his Rotom data. Surely, if he was silent and another Rotom came along, then—**

 **"Charles? Is that you?" Harlan didn't even give him a chance to talk. He laughed and leaned closer to the video screen. "Вот это да! You've gotten quite portly, haven't you?"**

 **Charles gave Harlan an ugly look for that and muttered something about Harlan not exactly being a Sudowoodo himself. In his hand, he still had the rolled up magazine. The receptionist had yelled at him to give it back. It wasn't his to take, but he'd taken it anyway. If she wanted to call the cops over a stupid magazine, then so be it. He honestly didn't give a shit anymore. He just wished he could hit Harlan with it.**

 **Harlan chuckled and ran his fingers through his pale green hair. It still looked like dead grass, and it had thinned even more since he published the article. "I suppose I'm really one to talk, да? Too much vodka, I suppose! But where are my manners? How are you, old friend? We haven't spoken in forever!"**

 **"This isn't a friendly call, you backstabbing jackass." Wow. _Classy_. That sounded way better in Charles's head. He held up the magazine and pressed it against the camera. "You see this? Care to explain _this_ to me, Harlan!? How did you find a Rotom in Kinzo!? And how could you publish this behind my back!? You KNEW I found one in—"**

 **"Charles… _comrade_ …" Harlan cleared his throat and held up both hands. "I understand why you're angry, but—"**

 **"OF COURSE I'M ANGRY, YOU TWO-FACED, PLAGIARIZING SON OF A HOUNDOOM! HOW ELSE WOULD YOU _EXPECT_ ME TO FEEL?!"**

 **A slow, annoyed huff left Harlan's nose. "I didn't steal anything from you," he insisted. "I hate to break it to you, but your Rotom isn't the only Pokémon of its kind. It's just not native to Sinnoh. I found one in Wolfram Town, but I only decided to publish my findings after I realized you never went public with yours. I even kept the same name out of respect for you as a fellow scientist. I thought you'd be happy enough with the homage! This meant you would never have to give up your little friend!"**

 **"But you knew," Charles repeated, ashamed of how weak his voice sounded. "You _knew_ and you did it anyway."**

 **Harlan sighed again and rested his jaw on his hand. "Do you know who discovered the double helix structure of DNA, Charles?"**

 **"James Watson and Francis Crick," Charles snorted. Of course he knew that! It was one of the first things children were taught in Life Science 101! But judging from the smarmy look on Harlan's weedy face, something about Charles's answer must have amused him. "Sorry. Did I say something _funny_ , Harlan?"**

 **Harlan took off his glasses and muffled a laugh. "Those two received the credit for that discovery, да, but that's not correct. Rosalind Franklin made that discovery, not Watson and Crick. We learned about those two in school because they _published_ first. So even if you _did_ discover your Rotom back in the '50s—"**

 **"'40s," Charles murmured, feeling sick to his stomach. His whole head was starting to float.**

 **"Whatever. My point is this: you have had decades to publish your findings, yet you never did. You hesitated, so I seized my opportunity and published first. It's nothing personal, old friend. That's just how academia works. The world doesn't care who discovered what. The credit only goes to whoever writes about it first."**

…

For as far back as Charles could remember, other people stole his work and claimed it as their own. Perhaps he wasn't the easiest person to get along with, but he'd never sink to Harlan's depths. He was arrogant, miserly, cantankerous, and bitter; but he was far too proud a man to steal from a fellow scientist.

At his core, he still wanted to believe the world would recognize natural talent and hard work, separating those good people from the freeloaders and thieves…but wasn't Harlan's very existence proof that it didn't always turn out that way?

When he looked across the table at Rowan, he could tell that his friend was very worried about him. It was clear he wanted to help, but he didn't know how. Truth be told, Charles didn't know how Rowan could help him, either.

"I don't know what to do anymore," he choked. "I'm sorry. I know you came all this way just to see me and it's out of the way, but I can't even pay for my half of the food…"


	41. (SUPPLEMENTAL)Pokémon Scientific Article

**Author's Note: Here's another supplemental chapter, everyone! I thought you'd be interested in reading Harlan's article just to see the differences between his account and the canonical Old Chateau journal.**

 **The idea to have Harlan's Rotom as a completely separate discovery came from seeing how Rotoms were handled in Pokémon Sun and Moon (specifically the Rotomdex). Rotom is my favorite Pokémon, so I was delighted to see it become so relevant to another plot!**

 **And rest assured, the Kinzonian Rotom is going to become relevant later, too.**

 **…**

APRIL 1965,

I will preface this article by stating for the record that I am not, nor will I ever be, a Pokémon biologist. My story is not one of a man vying for a regional professorship, nor is it one of a fellow hoping to advance himself further in the Pokémon academic community. It is, instead, a story of strange happenstance: one where opportunity literally looked me in the eye and knocked me out cold with a soda can.

When I was young, Kinzo only recognized ninety-six confirmed Pokémon species. The other children in the northern Kinzonian orphanage where I grew up also swapped stories about a multitude of mythical creatures that had yet to be classified. Examples include:

· **The Nachtkrapp** : a giant Honchkrow-like creature with no eyes and holes in its mite-infested wings. According to old medieval stories, looking directly at the Nachtkrapp could either make you sick or kill you outright. It was known to scoop bad children out of their beds and eat them: limbs first, heart last.

· **The Mulciberia Dragon** : a massive unnamed Dragon Pokémon that lurks just beneath Mulciber Caldera Lake. Although people have claimed to see it since the 1300s, it is more likely that these witnesses saw hydrogen sulfide gas or boiling water. That lake is a caldera: the surface of an extinct supervolcano. Maybe it was dormant back then. But even when I was a boy, people made remarks that it swallowed spy planes and overturned boats during the Western War of Royal Houses.

· **AZ the Deathless** : AZ was a mythical ancient king who killed many so he could become immortal. He did this by hiding his soul inside a needle, which was then hidden inside a flower, which was then carried off by a Floette. Any time anyone tried to kill him, the Floette would fly off and AZ would raise hell. He was also said to be close to three meters tall and could crush a grown man's skull with just one hand.

· **Snegurka** : a child-sized snow figure who magically came to life. She was well loved and grew just like a normal girl, but tragically died when other children invited her to a bonfire. She melted and left nothing behind but vapor. _Snegurka_ is still a very popular Kinzonian nickname for Froslasses.

· **The Tur** : a subterranean monster that lives somewhere in the Kalium Catacombs. Each time he bumps his head against one of the tunnels, an earthquake happens. Old southern legends state that if the Tur broke free and shook his entire body, he would destroy the entire world. Some researchers think the Tur is just our version of the Sinnohan Heatran.

· **The Zlatorog** : a majestic stag-like Pokémon with beautiful horns. This Pokémon knew where to find a treasure beyond compare, but everyone who ever tried to hunt it died a horrible death. They only had one chance to kill it. If they failed, a healing flower would grow from the Zlatorog's blood. If the Zlatorog managed to eat the flower, it would then recharge and destroy its attacker. Some researchers think that the Zlatorog is just our own retelling of the Kalosian Xerneas myth.

· **Sangui Berries** : these vampiric plants look just like normal Sitrus Berry trees until you bury a body beneath one. The more corpses you use to fertilize the tree, the redder and more savory the fruit becomes.

As fascinating as Kinzonian cryptozoology can be, that isn't why I wrote this article. I wrote it because at least one myth—that of the _gremlin_ —can now be confirmed as fact rather than fiction.

Traditionally, gremlins are portrayed as mischievous imps that jump into automobiles, aircrafts, tanks, and other pieces of machinery. Once they make a home inside, the whole system goes haywire. They can also sabotage appliances, computers, telephones, and other electronics. However, the gremlin I encountered looked nothing like the miniature humanoid from local lore. It was a small, orange, levitating Pokémon no larger than a baby toy.

Listed below is the story of how I discovered this Pokémon:

I am a senior engineer for a nuclear power plant that provides clean, sustainable energy to most of north Kinzo. I am also unmarried and work long hours. As such, I seldom cook and usually make a lunch out of whatever is available in the break room vending machines.

Three months ago, one of the snack machines began to display strange behavior:

1\. An HR assistant reported that the machine refused to take her money and spat it back out.

2\. Our senior safety officer claimed that even though the machine took his money, it didn't count it. When he tried to push the return button, the machine refused to give his money back and "laughed" at him.

3\. A janitor said the machine registered the cost of certain coins but dropped them back into the return plate multiple times. He ended up getting a pastry for 20 PokéDollars rather than the typical 180, all because he kept re-inserting the same coin.

4\. My secretary, Lera, had the strangest story of them all. The machine accepted and registered her money. She then pushed the buttons for a bag of sushki, but a bag of pickle-flavored crisps and a chocolate cheesecake bar came out instead.

This made no sense to me. If the malfunctions were consistent, that would be one thing; but these were entirely different behaviors! I first wrote it off as my comrades using different machines, some of which were overdue for repairs. They all insisted that it was the same machine. Lera even pointed it out to me.

So I did what any scientist would do: I repeated every single behavior that everyone had reported to me. The machine accepted my money and gave it back when I pushed the return button. It didn't drop coins and had no problem with totals. It gave me my sushki with no hiccups or weird surprises. Lera watched me in disbelief. She insisted the machine was trying to make a liar out of her, so she kicked it and stomped off.

I wrote the whole thing off as a weird practical joke and decided to buy a soda from the adjacent vending machine. Everyone had reported this behavior from the snack machine, but never the drink machine. And yet it was behaving just as my comrades had reported the other machine to behave!

I inserted the correct amount of coins for a can of soda, but the machine spat them back out. Sometimes, it accepted the value. Other times, it didn't. I kept doing the same thing until the correct value finally showed on the panel. Although the soda ended up costing me 60 PokéDollars less than the machine demanded, it also cost me five frustrating minutes of my life.

When I pushed the button for my soda, two came out. Never the one to pass up a free treat, I crouched down to grab the drinks. That was when the situation escalated from bizarre to something bordering on the paranormal. Both cans shot out at me as though they were bullets in a loaded gun. I successfully managed to dodge the first can, but the second one hit the side of my head. I lost my balance and collapsed. Another employee saw me on the floor, screamed, and hurried off to get a nurse.

As soon as I was left alone in that room, I heard what sounded like a cross between static and laughter coming from the machine. Just before I lost consciousness, the drop tray had turned into a mouth and the machine smiled at me!

A month later, I managed to startle and catch the creature inside the vending machine. The fact I was able to do this with a Quick Ball meant that it was a Pokémon. Out of curiosity, I contacted the Natrium Town Pokémon Laboratory to see if Professor Myrtle had ever seen anything like it. We combed through every scientific journal we could find, made several phone calls, reached out to multiple universities…and quickly realized that while there _were_ other accounts of this Pokémon being spotted by eye witnesses, no one had ever managed to catch one—let alone write about it.

Although this Pokémon can do exactly what gremlins purportedly do, I have decided to name the species "Rotom" (backwards for the international word for a motor). I do, however, nickname all my Pokémon and "Gremlin" was the obvious choice.

Rotom is a Pokémon with many possibilities. Upon further review, we have determined that it is an Electric/Ghost dual type when it is outside of an appliance. Once inside, the Ghost elemental type temporarily changes into a multitude of other types (e.g. adopting an "Ice" type when inside a vending machine, a "Poison" type when inside a trash compactor, or a "Steel" type when inside a blender).

When inside an appliance, Rotom can learn additional moves that it then "forgets" once it leaves the device. Some of these moves (such as Overheat, Hydro Pump, Blizzard, and Leaf Storm) can make for some truly devastating attacks in combat.

It is my hope—as well as Professor Myrtle's—that Rotom's natural habitat can be identified so further tests can be conducted. For all we know, mine got lost in Kinzo as a fluke. Myrtle suspects that the large deposits of magnetic ore near the Anthousa Sea may yield results. There is honestly no telling, but she has classified Rotom as an Utmost Priority species for research purposes.

Have you ever encountered a Pokémon like Rotom? If so, please reach out to the Natrium Town Pokémon Laboratory and specify where you found it. Your contribution could lead to the discovery of a lifetime!


	42. Future Visions

Back in Plumbum City, the Trainers Lodge walls were so thin that any noise could be heard throughout the building at any hour. The Kalium City Lodge had thicker walls and enforced quiet hours between 11:00 PM and 7:00 AM. In theory, this meant that people could get at least eight hours of sleep: close to the recommended nine for children and teenagers. In reality, all this meant was that the radios were shut off and people whispered in the common areas until they were ready to rest. From the third floor, those conversations were barely audible.

Had Cynthia and Cyrus been in better moods, it probably would have been easy to shut their eyes and drift off to dreamland. There was only one problem: going to sleep upset and angry permitted the mind to wander until it wore itself out.

Cyrus got in bed before Cynthia made it out of the bathtub, but it was more an excuse not to talk to her than any genuine exhaustion. As soon as his Eevee saw him getting ready to rest, the Pokémon hopped onto the bed and bumped his head against the boy's hand. "Do you want to get under the covers?"

"Vee!" Eevee wagged his bushy tail. He wished Cyrus spoke his language. If he did, then Eevee could tell him just how mean Cynthia had been! She kicked him out of the bathroom, complained when he sat in her dirty clothes, pushed him out of the bed, and barely let him battle at all! Since his body language was all his human could understand, Eevee simply gave Cyrus's hand an affectionate lick.

Cyrus let loose a small sigh and lifted the covers. "Alright, but I'm putting the blanket down on the count of five. One…two…"

That's all he needed. Eevee burrowed his way between the bed sheet and comforter, quickly creating a nest for himself. Cynthia had tried to hold him like a Poké Doll, but Eevee much preferred cuddling up to his human's feet. He curled into a ball and stayed put.

Shortly afterward, Cynthia left the bathroom. For the past half hour, she'd sat in a lukewarm bath and reflected on how badly that conversation had gone. She still felt that Cyrus's paranoid accusations were way out of line, but she recognized that she'd overstepped her bounds, too. Perhaps they could meet somewhere in the middle once they both calmed down.

Initially, she thought about asking Cyrus if they could discuss the argument. She planned to apologize for losing her temper and hoped they could both come up with an action plan, should something like this happen again. She wanted to know his limits, but also wanted him to understand her intentions. Friendships weren't about who was right and who was wrong. They were about respecting another person's boundaries enough to be willing to compromise.

"Cyrus?" she whispered, knowing Zed's quiet hours were in effect. "About earlier…"

But Cyrus didn't budge. All she could see was the spiky pale blue hair on the back of his head. In the dark, it looked white. She could hear his Eevee snoring from under the blankets, but the boy himself was deathly silent.

"Okay." She reached for her own blankets, trying her best not to wake up her own sleeping Eevee. "I won't wake you. We can talk tomorrow when you're ready." And this time, she decided, she'd ask first.

…

It was starting to feel like neither one of them was destined to sleep well in this city. Without the muffled commotion of other travelers downstairs or in adjacent rooms, the whole Lodge felt quiet. It wasn't only the Lodge, though. All of Kalium City seemed to go quiet at night, with only the whistling winds and sounds of the sea to break the total silence.

As exhausted as his body was, Cyrus's brain remained awake until nearly 2:00 AM. All he could think about was his robotics teacher and how much he was going to miss Dr. Plutarski. Eventually, when sleep finally claimed him, his only reward was a bittersweet premonition of a highly probable future.

 **The Valedictorian seat was his. No part of this surprised Cyrus, considering the Salutatorian's GPA was an entire 0.3 points below his. As soon as rankings were announced, the two shook hands and offered hollow congratulations to one another. Less than a minute after the Salutatorian stopped looking at him, Cyrus slipped into the bathroom to wash his hands.**

 **His early acceptance to Canalave University went through without a hitch. When his mother applied to colleges, she had wanted to attend there. She ended up attending a slightly less prestigious school that offered her more scholarship money instead. When the university answered back to say they wanted Cyrus for their Aerospace Engineering program, it was the first time he felt like one of his accomplishments was good enough for Nichole.**

 **But this was worth far more than her standard, "that's nice, dear." She was truly proud and insisted he had been capable of this all along. It was the only time in recent memory that she hugged him or showed any semblance of warmth.**

 **"It's a full scholarship," Alexander kept telling people. Although Cyrus had seen his father smile in public many times before, this felt less forced. This was genuine pride radiating from every cell of his body. "If the same thing happens with graduate school, maybe Cyrus can use the money we put aside to buy his first home."**

 **That was a lie. As soon as the university mentioned they would pay for tuition, textbooks, supplies, and housing; Nichole asked Cyrus if he would consider donating some of his college fund to buy textbooks for some of the lower income students. She even offered to let him pick the recipients.**

 **As generous as that notion sounded, Cyrus had mixed feelings about it. Alexander and Nichole had set that money aside for his future. Now other people were going to reap his reward and they'd probably squander it. But as per usual, he'd feel like a greedy asshole if he said no. Begrudgingly, he conceded.**

 **Like any other Valedictorian, his school expected him to deliver a speech. Although he worked to perfect it for over a week, it was met with lukewarm applause: soft claps, a few muffled sidebar conversations, and the glazed-over eyes of his classmates. Words of drive, innovation, progress, and the indomitable nature of the human spirit fell on selectively deaf ears; but at least they still had the decorum to clap like a bunch of automatons the moment his jaw stopped flapping.**

 **Since his surname began with the letter A, Cyrus was one of the first to be called on stage to accept his high school diploma. The principal shook his hand first and then he proceeded down the line. Dr. Newton was next, giving her fakest smile because she never put much effort into pretending. He knew Dr. Newton hated him, and that was all too clear by how her right eye twitched and her handshake may as well have been a vice grip.**

 **Cyrus shook another hand, and another, and another. Every teacher who ever taught him was there…save one. The only one who actually mattered was painfully, obviously absent. Thinking this was some sort of mistake, he kept searching the crowd for Dr. Plutarski. There was no way a magnet school as prestigious as the Sunyshore Magnet School of Science and Mathematics would turn loose a man as intelligent and talented as—**

 **"Looking for something?"**

 **When Cyrus turned around, his mother was right behind him. They weren't in the school auditorium anymore; they were in his bedroom. He wasn't eighteen years old, but only ten. Nichole held an empty Great Ball in one white, skeletal hand. In the other was Dr. Plutarski's letter of recommendation.**

 **Before he could stop her, the paper landed in the shredder.**

Cynthia didn't fare much better. The fact that she thought Cyrus was already asleep meant she couldn't clear the air and let him know there were no hard feelings. Instead, she ended up ruminating for hours: the whole argument replaying in her head with a hearty dose of _esprit d'escalier_.

Beyond her own troubled thoughts, she also was very aware of her Eevee's presence on the bed. He had chosen to sleep in the absolute middle: a thick, heavy ball wedged atop her stomach. Sometimes she tossed and turned to get comfortable, but now she couldn't. She was stuck until morning.

When sleep finally came for her—she had no idea when—her prize was nothing but another bad dream. Cyrus wasn't dying anymore, but the roles had reversed.

 **The dream started out as rather foggy and disorienting: as though she'd been drugged. Initially, all Cynthia could make out were human-sized blurs against a bright white background and a quartet of distorted voices. As her vision began to adjust, she quickly realized she was in Kalium General Hospital. She'd recognize that creepy mural anywhere.**

 **She was stretched horizontal on a gurney with a strap placed across her waist. A medical team all dressed in light mint green rushed the gurney down the hall, doing their best not to jostle their patient. Cynthia's whole body ached and she was bleeding in multiple places. As much as she wanted to alert the doctors to the fact she was conscious, she didn't want to tug on their pristine uniform and get it dirty. Maybe lifting her arm would be enough.**

 **When she did, she saw enough stitches in it to resemble Frankenstein's monster. "What the…?"**

 **"Ssssssssh. It's alright, pretty girl." Cynthia's whole body broke into goosebumps because she recognized that voice. When she lifted her head a little to see what was going on, the doctor stopped pushing the gurney and pulled his mask down. He wasn't a doctor at all. Smiling back at her was none other than the Kalium City Gym Leader. "I'm going as fast as I can."**

 **"…not fast enough…" Cynthia murmured, trying her best to keep herself from passing out. "What…happened…?"**

 **"Your friend is really worried about you," Jet answered. "He wouldn't stop screaming the entire time I drove you here." As if to further prove his point, a series of loud banging noises came from a nearby door. Cynthia could hear Cyrus begging to be let out. He'd never sounded so terrified.**

 **By this point, Cynthia was fully alert and aware of her surroundings. This wasn't the hospital at all. It was the hallway leading to the Battle Car! Cyrus continued to frantically pound on the door, pleading for someone to help. In the background, Cynthia heard Golbat's angry shrieks and the pained squeaks of a dying Zubat.**

 **The entire train was shaking. "We're going too fast," she warned Jet. "Please, you have to stop it."**

 **But instead of doing the right thing, Jet frowned and put his hands to his hips. "You're a mystery to me, pretty girl. I go fast, and it's not fast enough. Now you want me to stop?"**

 **"YES!" Cynthia shouted in unison with Cyrus. "PLEASE! If you'll let my friend out of that room, he can help!" She knew she wouldn't be much help. Her whole body felt like someone had taken a cheese grater to it and pressed down hard. "What are you standing there for?! Help him! Just open the door and—"**

 **BOOM!**

 **Everything shut off and turned pitch black. The train dropped, but it never made impact. It just kept falling, falling, falling…**

…

"Hello? Are y'all listening to me, or did this conversation end at _good morning_?"

"Hm? Sorry…" Cynthia knew she'd apologized to Campanella more than once this morning, but she wasn't counting. "I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

"Then do what I do an' drink more coffee," Campanella gruffed. "Y'all are so dead that I'm startin' to think I'd have a more stimulating conversation with a Ouija board."

At least Campanella was well rested. Unlike her traveling companions, she'd had a grand time in Kalium City so far. Not only had she managed to catch up with an old friend, but the city was treating her like a hero. Cynthia, Isaac's gang, and Cyrus may have defeated Team Sigma; but Campanella was the one who restored electricity to the train and sent the emergency signal to the dispatchers.

Over the past few days, she'd gone from being a complete nobody to Kalium City's hottest topic: the chain-smoking foreigner from Azalea Town who stepped up, took charge, and saved the day. People wanted to talk to her, treat her to meals, and gave her multiple opportunities to talk on TV.

"So…I have news…" At least she didn't give up on trying to engage them. Even if all Campanella got was a disinterested look from Cyrus or a tired grunt from Cynthia, she kept trying. "I think I already told Cynthia this, Cyrus; but the Kalium City News compensated me for an interview. The Kinzo National News did, too! It's a pretty sweet chunk of change."

"Good for you." Cyrus poked at his food, not having much of an appetite. He'd eaten a few of Renata's cookies in the room before coming down, mostly because there was no telling what sort of food Zed kept in the Lodge. It was only instant oatmeal: nothing he'd be too guilty about leaving behind if he couldn't finish it.

Under the table, Campanella's boot found his ankle. She gave him a light kick: more to surprise him than hurt him. "I could've spent it on a little something nice for myself or saved it for Hydrargyrum City's Game Corner, but _noooo_. I decided to be nice for once and treat the three of us to something special. You're welcome."

She expected these two to act like normal teenagers and excitedly ask what they were doing today, but it never came. Instead, Cynthia gave Campanella an uncertain, mildly concerned look. "That's very nice of you, but Cyrus? Aren't you and Renata staying in the Lodge until Friday?"

Campanella raised one of her eyebrows at that. "Huh? What the hell for?"

"I checked out of the hospital early," Cyrus explained. "I didn't want to stay in there any longer, so Renata promised my dad she'd keep an eye on me until I finish taking my antibiotics." He held up the bottle to show that only meant doses for today and tomorrow. "But I'm sure he'd be just as happy if Cynthia did it."

Now it was Cynthia's turn to throw him a quizzical look. "Oh, so you're volunteering me now? I didn't agree to that."

Cyrus took a slow sip of his juice and forcibly swallowed it with his pills. "I haven't agreed to anything you've done for the past few days, Cynthia. That never stopped you from volunteering me anyway."

"Excuse me!? I thought after last night, we—"

"Whooooa there, kids!" Campanella held up both hands, making it clear she would push them to opposite sides of the table if they didn't calm down. "I don't know what the hell's gotten into y'all, but I'm hopin' you'll sort it out soon. Cyrus, _I'll_ watch you. I'll even flag down a taxi so we don't have to walk far."

"I don't have a problem with that." Cyrus began stacking all his trash on top of his plate so it would be easier for the Lodge Owner to clean up later. He shot Cynthia a look. "Do you?"

Cynthia didn't appreciate feeling cornered, but decided not to comment on that. Instead, she quietly shook her head and offered to take his plate. "What are we doing, Campanella?"

The redhead just chuckled and made her way toward the lobby. "It's a surprise. Freshen up, liven up, and meet me downstairs in half an hour!"

…

The mystery destination turned out to be the Kalium Museum of 20th Century Art. Cyrus never would have pegged somebody like Campanella as an art enthusiast—nor would he have chosen an art museum for a group outing—but he'd humor her. For all he knew, this could be the sort of quiet and relaxing activity his body needed as he recuperated.

He noticed Cynthia's eyes went toward the museum's complimentary wheelchairs for the elderly and infirm, but she didn't say anything. Realizing that he'd probably been a bit too vitriolic at breakfast, Cyrus decided to be a bit gentler at the museum. "Do you think I should use one?" he asked, hoping that Cynthia noted a hint of an apology in his tone.

Cynthia stared at him for a moment, at first worried that he was going to bait her again. When she realized Cyrus was being sincere, her expression softened. "I don't think it would hurt…and I'm glad Campanella paid for a taxi. I just don't want you to overexert yourself."

"I don't think this museum has any interactive exhibits. I think I'll be alright, but…just to be safe…" To his amusement, Cynthia said those last four words in unison with him. He smiled a bit. "If I sit in one, would you mind pushing me?"

For the first time since he left the hospital, Cynthia smiled back. "I wouldn't mind at all! Just let me know if there's an exhibit you want to look at more closely."

Art wasn't really his thing. The whole point of aesthetic, according to the ancients, was to study how the mind responded and reacted to beautiful things. In that school of thought, images triggered emotion and sensation rather than pure intellectual thoughts. "I don't think that's going to happen, but feel free to stop and look if you see something catches your interest. I get the impression Campanella wants to stay here all day."

Campanella couldn't have been more obvious about it if she tried. She'd babbled nonstop about art since they left the Trainers Lodge. Perhaps she thought that her enthusiasm would spread to her younger traveling companions. For Cynthia, it did. She was genuinely curious about the museum. Cyrus was still feeling a bit skeptical, but at least it gave him a chance to do something different.

There was one other thing that didn't quite add up for him. There was a very obvious **Free Admission** sign near the front desk. "I thought you said you were spending money on us, not dragging us around to—"

"Oh, I am!" Campanella whipped out her wallet: an old, cracked Tauros leather folio with a longhorn pattern on it. "There's a special exhibit you have to pay money to see and I think y'all are gonna love it. Hold on." She got in line for tickets, whispered something to the clerk, and came back with three tickets and brochures.

Most of the art in the free admission zones didn't appear to be much different from the modern art museums in Sinnoh: canvases painted in nothing but one color, random paint splatters, geometric shapes, and weird sculptures whose innermost meanings were lost to everyone but the artists and their critics. None of those things resonated with Cyrus. Judging from the expression on Cynthia's face, it did nothing for her either.

"I was kind of hoping we'd see some Kinzonian propaganda art," Cynthia whispered in Cyrus's ear. "It's kind of creepy-looking but neat, you know?"

"Oh, I know exactly what you're talking about. The hospital had a lot of it." And even though Cyrus hadn't had any opportunities to explore Kalium City yet, he'd seen a few similar-looking posters in the Trainers Lodge. That art style was prevalent even in their Kinzo travel guides. "That could have been a little cool. I guess."

But Campanella was right about the special exhibit appealing to him. Just the blurb was enough to intrigue him:

 _Future Visions is a celebration of retrofuturism: artistic renditions of what past generations thought the future would look like. Join us and see parallel realities where we all drive to work in hovercars, all women are over two meters tall, most menial work is done by our robot companions, and we grow crops and play golf on spaceships!_

Maybe this would be fun after all.

Campanella rubbed the back of her neck and chuckled a little. "I don't know how into sci-fi you two are, but I've wanted to see this exhibit for a long time. It came to Goldenrod City a couple of years ago and I missed it."

Cyrus glanced up from his wheelchair and gave Campanella a funny look. "Weren't you in _prison_ two years ago? How would you know what art exhibits were in a museum if you—"

"Well…" The big redhead put one hand to her hip and groaned. "I might've mentioned this to Cynthia before, but I dunno if you knew this. Before I was arrested, I was halfway through an art restoration degree. The new stuff's usually a bore to me, but I wanted to see this exhibit 'cause an old pal's art's bein' displayed."

"Oh, really?" Cynthia flipped through the pages of her brochure. "It looks like most of the art belongs to Jean Giraud, Syd Mead, and H.R. Giger." None of those names meant anything to her, but she couldn't help but notice Cyrus appeared to recognize at least one of those names. "But the stuff they printed for the ad looks neat! So, who do you know, Campanella? Mr. Giraud, Mr. Mead, or—"

"Nah, nah. My pal's only got a couple of paintings in here. He ain't nobody big."

Cynthia was determined to figure out who it was, and she found her answer at the very bottom of the list. In dead last was none other than Zed Levin. "Cyrus! Look!" She pointed at the name and grinned. "That's our Lodge Owner!"

…

"Ah…Mead, Moebius, and Giger. I remember a time when almost every high-grossing science fiction film used those three as consultants for architecture, life, and ambiance. _Blade Runner. Dune. Alien._ I still think you're a little too young to see some of those movies, Silas."

"Even by my next visit?"

Aldous took a deep breath and held it for a while, slowly letting it leave his nose. His hand remained gently placed on his nine-year-old son's shoulder. Next month, Silas would be ten. While most boys that age pleaded for their parents to let them apply for a Pokémon Trainer's License, Aldous and his ex-wife already agreed to let Silas have one.

The boy didn't know it yet, but he had a Level 8 Bronzor waiting for him. Aldous had coordinated with one of Kinzo's finest breeders and the Plumbum City Gym Leader to make sure this Pokémon was bred for perfection. It would be intelligent, determined, strong-willed, and eternally curious: just like him!

Aldous would bend heaven and earth for his little boy. By the time Silas grew up, he'd have the world at his feet and be able to do with it as he pleased. But even though ten was a landmark age and Silas's first real step toward becoming an adult, he still had a long way to go. "Reaching double digits doesn't automatically make you an adult, son."

A pair of deep blue eyes looked back up at Aldous. Silas was his little clone. They both wore their sapphire blue hair neatly combed out of their faces, both dressed in their best suits unless casual wear was expressly requested, and even turned up their nose at the exact same angle when someone said something that displeased them.

"Aren't those movies thirteen and up?" Silas asked, wrinkling his nose. "Thirteen's not _that_ much older than—"

"Nice try, son. Turning ten doesn't make you a teenager, either."

Silas opened his mouth for some sort of quippy retort, but went quiet when another group of people entered the exhibit: a scary-looking redhead who smelled like cigarette smoke, a pretty blonde in a black fur-lined parka, and a tired-looking blue haired boy in a wheelchair. The last of those three appeared to be perusing the exhibit with only mild interest.

Aldous didn't particularly care what these strangers thought of the art. _He_ thought it was neat. Judging from the way his son kept leaning over the rails to get a closer look at one of Syd Mead's cityscapes, Silas obviously shared his enthusiasm.

The exhibit was a wonderland of chrome-sided hover cars with giant windshields, pristine buildings with window-walls atop perfectly manicured lawns, kitchens and living rooms with all appliances conveniently built into the walls, smiling people in space age outfits, vibrant splashes of neon in dark rainy urban corridors…

There was something truly spectacular about failed retrofutures. A little art deco, a little mod, some realism, and mid-century pop art blended together to create an amalgamation with more hope and optimism than anything reality ever managed to produce. It was eye-catching inspiration around every corner: a brave new world.

"It leaves a lot to ponder. Doesn't it, Silas? If mankind had more personal drive and worked together to optimize their talents, we could be living like the people in these paintings." One day, once his fearless leader's plans took root, they would reap all this and more. They were going to create a perfect, efficient society where everyone gave their maximum effort and propelled progress forward at an exponential rate.

That world would truly be greater than the sum of all its parts.

"Really?" Silas raised one of his dark blue eyebrows skeptically at his father and pointed toward a beautifully designed space farm. The cornfields stretched in all directions and seemed to extend to infinity, all in a sea of jade green. "You're telling me people could actually _make_ something like that?"

Aldous opened his mouth to say that of course it was possible, but he was interrupted by the tired-looking boy from the other group. "Just because someone imagined it," the boy grumbled, "that doesn't guarantee it's plausible."

While Cynthia and Campanella were soaking in the whimsy and wonder of these failed futures, Cyrus simply couldn't do it. He had tried because he enjoyed reading science fiction. Some of the art reminded him of the covers of the cheap pulp novels he checked out of the library when he was bored. Pretty as the art was, it stirred nothing inside him.

Aldous could practically see the excitement fade from of his child's face when he heard that Syd Mead's interstellar greenhouse was nothing but a pipe dream painted in the world's finest Technicolor. "I see…" Silas murmured dejectedly.

"Now hold on a minute!" Aldous snapped back, placing a hand to his hip. "Back in Jules Verne's day, most of his inventions were dismissed as too fantastical to work. Now the Nautilus in _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_ is a common, everyday submarine! News broadcasts, solar-powered satellites, lunar modules, skywriting, videophones, _tasers_ —"

"And Ray Bradbury said there were telepathic men on Mars with singing crystal books," Cyrus retorted. "H.G. Wells promised us a time machine, sentient beast-men, and the ability to turn our bodies invisible. While I agree that such things are fun to think about, Verne didn't think like Bradbury and Wells. He thought less like a writer and more like an engineer. Whoever painted these visions was more intrigued by the design's aesthetic than its practical purpose."

' _Impudent brat. Do you have any idea who you're addressing?_ ' Aldous took a step closer to the boy's wheelchair. He planned to give this kid a piece of his mind, but decided against it at the last possible second. If he didn't have Silas with him, he'd have dragged this brat outside and exchanged more than mere words with him.

"Okay…" There was still some disappointment in Silas's voice, but he took a few steps nearer the teenager. Insistently, he pointed to one of the hover cars. "What about this one?" The older boy frowned at him. "I'm not teasing you, I promise! I just want to know what's wrong with it."

Cyrus sighed and tilted his wheelchair to the left so he could get a better look at the device. There was no reason to be rude to this kid. He was only curious. "Well…aside from the fact hover technology hasn't advanced to that level, the only way this thing would efficiently work is via magnetic levitation."

"Magnetic levitation…?"

"Like your country's Metro cars," Cyrus explained. "They hover over the tracks because there are magnets on both the rails and the train. For this kind of technology to work, every road in Kinzo would have to be uprooted and replaced with strong magnetic ones. Not only would that be a very expensive and unnecessary thing to do, but magnetic fields can disrupt other electronics: like computers and pacemakers."

"Oh." Silas blinked a few times, but seemed to be in better spirits. "Okay. That makes sense! What about this one?"

Cyrus looked behind him to see if Cynthia or Campanella were paying him any attention. They were. Cynthia waved and made a gesture indicating she could come over there and grab him if he needed to be rescued. Cyrus shook his head and let the kid push him around instead.

…

"I think you made a little friend," Cynthia teased.

"I wouldn't exactly say that. He just wanted to know why the things in the pictures wouldn't work."

Okay. She probably shouldn't have laughed at that, but she did. "Did you kill his hopes and dreams?"

Cyrus smirked and shook his head. "I doubt it." As Cynthia pushed him into the gift shop, she couldn't help but notice he was in a significantly better mood. This had been good for him. For that, she was relieved. "For all I know, Silas might try to find a way to make these things work when he's older. He thinks like my dad."

"Is…that a _good_ thing…?" Cynthia honestly wasn't sure. She knew how much animosity Cyrus harbored toward his parents, Alexander in particular. If he meant that to be praise, it was the first positive thing he'd ever said about either parent.

"My dad takes Quality Control very seriously," Cyrus explained. "It's his job to improve what works and fix what doesn't. When things go wrong, he finds the root cause and figures out how he can stop it from happening again. That kid has a critical eye. That's a very good thing to have."

"Aaaaah. I see." Watching that little boy push Cyrus around the exhibit was nothing short of adorable. It was also the longest that Cynthia had seen Cyrus talk to a complete stranger. He and Silas stopped in front of every single painting in the exhibit and discussed it for at least five minutes apiece, going back and forth like a pair of art critics.

Watching him be patient with that little boy had reminded her of the little girl she helped in Plumbum City. Sometimes, Cynthia wondered what Ana was up to. Had she defeated Simon yet? Would she make it to Kalium City before they left?

"I'm glad you had fun, Cyrus. I had a great time, too." She instinctively reached to pat his shoulder, but stopped herself. Cyrus noticed her hesitation and gave her a weak smile. She was trying and he appreciated that. "Could you help me look through the postcards? I want to write some friends and family, but I want to make sure I buy the ones with Zed's art on them."

"I'm only seeing Syd Mead's stuff down here," Cyrus told her. "So much _Blade Runner_ …"

"And I'm mostly seeing H.R. Giger and—ah! There it is!"

Only one of Zed's pieces was converted into postcards. The work was painted completely in black and white, save for an entirely neon pink and black landscape outside. A man read the paper calmly as all hell broke loose outside. The walls looked soft, almost plush, and muted out the noise as a group of police officers in spacesuits pointed their ray guns at a giant alien spaceship. It wasn't sleek and elegant like the architecture and automobiles in the other works, but it told a pretty hilarious story.

She'd take four of those: one for herself, one for her parents, one for her grandmother, and one for Professor Rowan's lab! "I'm gonna see if Zed will autograph these before I mail them. How cool would that be?"

For Zed's sake, she hoped he made some kind of breakthrough. He was a very kind and talented human being. If he ever made it big, Cynthia would want to come back to Kalium City and stay at the Lodge again, just to congratulate him. Thus far, he was the best host she'd ever had. Hell, out of _all_ the Kinzonians she'd met, Zed Levin had been her favorite thus far. But she wasn't the only one glancing over postcards. Cyrus was doing the same thing.

"Are you writing home?"

Cyrus shook his head. "Not exactly. That note you found was a letter of recommendation my favorite teacher wrote to Professor Myrtle. She gave me a copy, just in case I wanted to read what he wrote about me." He'd done so last night, at long last, and never wanted to lose it. "I'm glad you didn't throw it away. Dr. Plutarski's the closest thing to a friend that I have at home."

He was fairly certain that his teacher's words were what swayed Professor Myrtle to accept his application. There was a fierce pride in that letter: something nobody else in the world had felt for him. Sure, his grandfather loved him and he recognized that, but grandparents were kind of obligated to do that. Dr. Plutarski didn't have any blood ties to Cyrus, so his vote of confidence meant twice as much.

"But even if I do write something, I suppose there's no guarantee he'll receive it. I tried calling his extension and it's no longer in service."

Cynthia's heart did a backflip when she heard that. "I…" She felt a bit nauseous. "I know what happened. I think you can already guess."

"My parents pressured the school to fire him." Cyrus's words sounded calm and his face played the stoic part quite well. It was a façade, and a weak one at that. Cynthia heard a crinkling noise and noticed Cyrus's grasp on the postcard had tightened so much that he ruined it. A skyway of the future disintegrated into nothing but crumpled cardboard. "That's what happened, isn't it?"

 ** _"Please relay to my son that his rash, selfish antics cost that man his job. He'll never teach again."_**

Cynthia felt a little stomach acid bubble up her esophagus. She swallowed it down. "I'm sorry, Cyrus. Come on. Let's pay for this and head back to the Lodge…"

…

Postcards were so passé, but Aldous would at least get a couple for his direct subordinates. He loved to tell Avdantil and Natela that these were all the places in the world where he'd rather not see them. He'd only been half joking. Natela was obsessed with him and Avdantil's temper was so explosive that it put nitroglycerin to shame.

There were some cute atomic-era pin-ups: cute girls in slinky, impractical space suits riding flying saucers. He'd get one of those for himself, but privately prayed that wasn't the poster Silas picked for his room. As mature as his son typically behaved, Aldous privately gave thanks to whatever gods he believed in that his kid wasn't _that_ mature. Not yet, anyway.

' _Give him another couple of years, Aldous. Then you'll have to confiscate this sort of nonsense._ '

"Which one did you enjoy most, Silas?" Go figure. It was the space farm. "Alright. I'll get that for you." When Aldous looked through the catalog to find the largest version of the print, his son's entire face seemed to light up. "I'm thinking we can stop by a craft store, pick up a chrome frame, and install some ambient lighting behind it. How about—"

"Psssst." It almost sounded like a Glameow's hiss. "Pssssst."

' _Goddammit._ '

There, hanging out among the mugs and t-shirts, was an all-too familiar face. It didn't matter that she was hiding half of it behind a giant pair of sunglasses or covering her hair with a scarf. Aldous worked with his Gammas on such a regular basis that he was convinced he could have spotted Natela halfway across the building.

She looked a little worse for wear—though he supposed surviving an E-Bomb blast and being on the run for the past few days would do that to just about anyone. She'd be fine. That girl bounced back from virtually everything Aldous put her through. "Distract your son, sir. We need to talk."

To hell with that! He didn't have another custody weekend with Silas until April. His Gammas could piss off.

"Not now, Natela." There. That sounded more polite. Fortunately, Silas wasn't paying attention. He was too preoccupied with picking up a souvenir for his mother. "I'm off the clock."

Natela leaned against the card shelf and moved her upper body as though she expected Aldous to kiss her…not that he'd ever humored her before. "You're not mad, are you?"

He wasn't even going to dignify that with a response. "Did the bomb work?"

"Yes, and I threw a distraction on the news that I'm sure you can get the KSP to chase. Why are you so tense, though? You're acting like—tch. Okay. _Fiiiine_. I'll duck into the Trainers Lodge and file a full report the old-fashioned way. Have fun with your little boy."

"Rest assured, I will. And Natela?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Don't _ever_ interrupt one of my family outings again."

…

A little later that night, Cynthia could hear music and laughter coming from downstairs. Zed had installed surround-sound speakers all across the common areas. It sounded all well and good, but she'd been in Kinzo long enough to know they only had four stations in the country: one for news, one for classical music, one for Top 40, and another that would fluctuate from city to city.

A rather bombastic brass and drums piece played below: almost like a parade march. She'd heard the exact same song in the background of Jet's orientation video for the flight into the region. By now, she recognized it by name: _Farewell to Aurelium_.

Thanks to the books she'd picked up at the library, Cynthia at least learned some of the basics regarding this country's tumultuous, violent past. Prior to its Kalosian and Sinnohan occupation, Kinzo had been the Grand Aurelium Empire: an absolute monarchy ruled by the powerful Zykova family.

After the invaders took over, Kinzo spent centuries under colonial rule with occasional riots and uprisings. Although Sinnoh and Kalos agreed to keep the Zykova family in charge of Kinzo, those tsars were little more than vassals: subservient to the master country. During one of those revolts, the Kinzonians unofficially appointed a new tsar who claimed to be descended from a Zykova bastard. They paraded him about to boost the morale of the people and even wrote this beautiful song.

 ** _И если в поход  
Страна позовет  
За край наш родной  
Мы все пойдем в священный бой…_**

Cynthia had no idea what the lyrics meant, but she was fairly sure she could ask Zed, Renata, or one of the Beridze siblings later. Considering how many of them were singing along, her suspicions were high.

"Were you thinking about going down there?"

"Hm?" Cynthia lifted her head from a history book about the tsars. Cyrus had barely moved from the chair by the room's window since they settled in for the evening. She'd half suspected he'd fallen asleep, all due to how little motion and noise she'd heard from him. He'd been wide awake this entire time. "Maybe, if they have food. What about you?"

"I'm waiting for it."

"For what?"

"The night sky."

One hour after curfew, all external lights in the city turned off. The only lights left on after the cutoff were inside houses and apartments: dimmed down like fireflies for those who were still awake. Even then, official lights out came at 21:00 hours: 9:00 PM. Once total blackout transpired, the light pollution died off to reveal a beautiful celestial sky with far more constellations than anyone in Sinnoh could ever dream of seeing.

"I read in the travel guide that one of the later cities has an observatory. I think it's in Stannum City. They don't have a gym, but maybe we can go there before the year is over."

 _'We_ , _not_ _I_.' Cynthia noted that. "You're into astronomy? I thought you were more of a tech guy."

"I can't be both? Most people have multiple interests: like your interests in history, mythology, and strategy." She couldn't see his face from this angle, but she saw his pale hand reach toward the night sky. "I share those interests with you, but I have many others."

"I do too." Earlier, Cynthia's Eevee had laid claim to the second chair. Now that it was vacant, she decided to occupy it and keep Cyrus company. "But you perfectly pegged my big three a moment ago." She'd give him a small win, hoping to get him to ease up a bit.

Before they left Plumbum City, he had started to warm up to her. Then all this horrible stuff happened on the way to Kalium City and they were growing distant again. She didn't like this colder, detached Cyrus. She wanted to be friends again. "The cosmos is a rather lonely place to get lost, isn't it?"

"Only if you hate being alone."

A great blackness consumed the concrete and neon cityscape. Kalium City began to die, but it would live again at daybreak. It would glisten, gleam, and return to its glory as the City of Second-Rates. Downstairs, the music softened to a sweeter, gentler song in a language neither teen fully understood.

Cynthia had noticed that as the day progressed, Cyrus's tension had drastically eased up. If anything, he seemed a little embarrassed about losing his composure earlier. It wasn't enough to merit an apology, apparently, but at least enough to give her a remorseful glance before averting his eyes again. "I hope you don't think I'm still mad at you, Cyrus. I'm not."

"Good…" Cyrus leaned back in his chair and let loose a small, contented sigh. "I'm not angry with you, either. I think the both of us just needed a chance to cool down."

"I think so, too. And look, that thing I said yesterday about you and your hometown…" She'd outright told him that she understood why he didn't have any friends waiting for him at home. She'd lost sleep over that. It was the nastiest thing she'd ever snapped at somebody and she was ashamed of herself for even _thinking_ it. "That wasn't okay. I lost my temper and lashed out. I'll try not to let that happen again."

"Thanks." Cyrus sounded like he was going to accept that apology. "And I'll try to loosen up a little. I wasn't proud of how I behaved, either. But we're fine now, aren't we?"

"Mmhmm." Cynthia scooted her chair a bit closer and felt her heart flutter when Cyrus very lightly touched his shoulder to hers. "Tomorrow's the last of the pills, right? Then you're free from Renata?" When Cyrus nodded, she smiled. "Okay. Once you're done with those, maybe we should go ahead and challenge Jet. After how he treated you on the ride to the hospital, nothing would make me happier than to kick his ass with an audience."

At first, she expected Cyrus to argue that aside from the art museum, he hadn't had a chance to explore Kalium City yet. Maybe he wanted to see things, too. Instead, she heard something that sounded like he was trying to clear his throat. Shortly afterward, she realized he was holding in a laugh.

They were going to be just fine.


	43. I (Ain't Missing You)

**Birthday parties were always a big deal, but 10 was the most important birthday of all. Ten-year-olds were old enough to receive their first Pokémon, as well as a license to catch and train more. If they wanted, they could even drop out of school altogether to train the creatures full-time. Natela hoped that was what Bogdan chose to do. He was the only classmate she actually hated. If she'd had any say in the matter, she wouldn't even be at his birthday party.**

 **Bogdan's father worked for the Commissariat of Education. As a government employee, he was expected to invite his son's entire class to birthday parties and all the children were expected to attend. Unless they could prove they were sick or had an emergency, a no-show could land a kid's entire family in trouble.**

 **The only other kid with a government-employed parent was Natela. That made it all the more imperative that she and her papa be at Bogdan's party. She wanted to leave before they even arrived; but that wasn't an option. The nine-year-old decided to cut her losses and fixed herself a snack plate.**

 **"Hey, look!" she called out to one of her female classmates. "They have a pie with Bogdan's name on it!"**

 **"That's r-really neat, Natela…"**

 **Most of those girls were afraid of her. They all knew her papa worked for the Commisariat of Trade & Industry. If they excluded Natela or said something mean, they might find the KSP at their door; insisting someone in the house smuggled something illegal into the country. The officers would tear the entire house up in search of the item, declare nothing was found, and leave the family to clean up the mess. **

**As they ate their shortbread cookies and pie, one of the girls offered to braid Natela's hair. Another wanted to show off a cheap makeup kit she'd stolen from her aunt, but the foundation made Natela's skin itch. It was probably expired. When Natela started scratching, the girl began to apologize. "I'm sorry, Natela! I didn't know you had sensitive skin! I played with it at home and—"**

 **"Whatever. I'm just gonna hang out with my papa." She didn't plan to tattle on her classmate, but her classmate didn't need to know that. Natela wanted her to squirm throughout the weekend. That would give plenty of time to think about what should go into her big, public apology on Monday.**

 **Her papa was talking with some of the other grownups, most of whom were congratulating Bogdan's father on raising such a gifted child. Among them was a skinny lady with half-moon glasses and a bright pink blouse. "You should be proud of your son, Mr. Kozlov," the woman said as she lifted a flute of champagne. "According to your Commissar, Bogdan has the highest grades of any ten-year-old in Kalium City!"**

 **Natela's chubby cheeks burned when she heard that. "I have good grades, too!" she blurted, trying to get the woman's attention. "I'm right behind Bogdan! My teacher said so!" Her teacher also said she needed to apply herself more. If Natela actually studied instead of just relying on her intelligence, she could have outperformed Bogdan. If he left school to go on a journey, she'd fill his spot anyway. That had to count for something, right?**

 **The woman didn't say anything. She didn't even look at Natela. It was as if she'd temporarily rendered herself selectively blind and deaf.**

 **"Natela…" Her papa's tone was soft and loving, but a bit firmer than usual. He was trying to warn her not to make this about her. "You wouldn't like it if Bogdan said something like that at** ** _your_** **party next month, would you?"**

 **"…no." Natela pursed her lips and folded her arms tightly around her chest. Even at nine, she was starting to develop breasts. She was in the first in class to do so and one stupid boy made the mistake of teasing her for it. He wasn't at their school anymore. Now the girls made a huge fuss over them and told her how jealous they were.**

 **"I'm so glad I'll be able to give Bogdan his first Pokémon, Mr. Kozlov. He's certainly earned it."**

 **Natela's interest was piqued when she heard that last statement. "Papa?" she whispered, tugging on his arm. "Who's that lady?"**

 **"That's Professor Myrtle," he informed her. "She's Kinzo's regional Pokémon Professor. Every year, she gives the top student in each town a starter Pokémon as a tenth birthday present."**

 **"And** ** _Bogdan's_** **getting it?" Natela hissed, squeezing her father's hand even tighter. Her whole face was starting to burn, and she didn't even know which Pokémon was in that Poké Ball! Everyone was making a big fuss over it; so she assumed it was either something rare, powerful, or both. "That's not fair! I was right behind him!"**

 **What made it even more unfair was that even if Natela got the top mark next year, it wouldn't count. She'd missed out on this amazing prize by only half a percent in test scores** ** _._** **She sucked in a sob and leaned a bit closer to her father as Bogdan came over to accept his new Pokémon.**

 **"Hello, Professor!" The boy held out his hand for Professor Myrtle to shake and smiled at her. "Thank you for coming to my party. My papa says it's a huge honor."**

 **Myrtle crouched down to look Bogdan in the eye, not that she had to stoop too far. She was quite a petite woman and Bogdan was a bit tall for his age. "The honor's all mine, sweetie. I love smart kids. One of the things I look forward to the most each year is getting to meet each town's best and brightest…and reward them for all their hard work. Your dad tells me you studied very hard to get that top spot."**

 **"I sure did!" Bogdan was grinning from ear to ear. "There's a really smart girl in my class. I had to study two hours a day, just to get better marks than her!"**

 **'** ** _See?_** **' Natela thought, her head perking up a bit. '** ** _It's me! Look at me, Professor! I'M the smartest kid, not Bogdan! If anyone deserves that Pokémon, it's—_** **'**

 **The professor ruffled the boy's platinum blonde curls and gave his cheek a kiss. "Well, it certainly paid off! Let's introduce you to your new best friend, shall we?"**

 **As soon as the other kids heard the professor say** ** _Pokémon,_** **they stopped what they were doing and hurried over to see Bogdan's great prize. They huddled together, whispered their theories on what it might be, and waited in anticipation for their classmate to push the button and release the creature from its ball.**

 **The bright light took on a vulpine quadripedal shape. The creature wagged its bushy tail, wiggled its long ears, and sat at attention as the light faded. It was the prettiest Eevee Natela had ever seen. Its coat looked impossibly clean, like every strand of fur would be as soft as silk. Its fur was longer than the wild ones, too, and had a slightly curly texture. Even the tips of its ears curled in an adorable, endearing way.**

 **Professor Myrtle had put a little blue bandanna around the Eevee's neck so his new trainer would know he was male. The Eevee looked around the room at all the children, trying his best to figure out which one he now belonged to.**

 **Natela couldn't help herself. She leaned forward, wanting more than anything to pet that soft fur and bury her face in it. She wanted that Eevee! Bogdan didn't deserve to have something so nice! He may have worked hard, but—**

 **She stopped only when her father yanked her back. "That's not yours, Natela."**

 **Her blue eyes welled up with tears. "I want one, too…" she whimpered. "Papa, I…I…"**

 **"Ssssssssh…" Other parents were starting to look at them, so Natela's father pulled his daughter into a hug and tried to quietly herd her toward the exit. He knew from experience how close she was to pitching a fit. "There there, princess. Papa will get you something even better when it's your turn."**

 **"But I want a—"**

 **"I promise."**

 **…**

There was nothing quite like being on the run to boost a girl's appetite. Natela grew up in Kalium City, so she knew none of the hotels in this part of the city had good food. They also required payment by credit card, which left a fuck ton of metadata behind. She and Avdantil didn't need that right now. Not until the Metro issue blew over.

Staying in the Kalium Lodge's free barracks meant they wouldn't have to pay for a hotel room or meals. Lodge Owners were expected to provide two meals a day, as well as free beds and lockers for non-paying visitors. This drastically reduced the number of transactions they'd have to make to survive, which in turn gave them a few more degrees of anonymity. Anonymity kept them safe from angry trainers and nosy police officers.

Today's breakfast was nothing but instant oatmeal with cinnamon sugar and a little vanilla flavoring, but at least it warmed her up. In Natela's back pocket, she could feel the "better" Pokémon her father had given her buzzing around in her Heal Ball. ' _Calm down, Bee-Bee! I'm trying to eat!_ '

Just a few tables away, Natela could see the little blonde bitch that kicked her ass on the train. The kid seemed to be in high spirits, talking excitedly with her older redheaded friend about a museum. Her little boyfriend was there, too. That poor kid looked like he wanted somebody to shoot him and put him out of his misery.

"I don't understand why you want to stay here," Avdantil grunted, stirring his spoon around in his oatmeal. "It seems like an unnecessary risk. About a fourth of the people in this Lodge were on the same train we were. Any one of them could recognize us and contact the police."

"They could, yes," Natela agreed. "But if they haven't filed a report yet, I doubt they ever will."

She meant those words as a comfort. They were off the hook! They could bide their time in the Trainers Lodge until Aldous needed them in Hydrargyrum City. Technically, they didn't need to be there until it was time for Operation Ded Moroz; but Aldous had some big fancy event coming up and Natela wanted to be there to support him. He wasn't just a Beta to her. Her entire world revolved around handsome, clever, smooth-talking Aldous Sokolov and always would.

And yet her optimism seemed to rub her partner the wrong way. "Is it bad that I _want_ someone to report us? I can't sit still for more than two days, Natela. At least if one of these bastards reported us, I'd have a good reason to pick a fight. Sitting here, wasting time, doing nothing: it just feels wasteful to me."

 _'Wasteful, eh?_ ' Above all else, Team Sigma valued its efficiency. Every Gamma was paired off with a partner whose skills, connections, and strengths complemented their own. This way, the organization could get the best use out of both at all times. There was seldom any room to slack off, goof around, or make mistakes. "There's not much else we _can_ do. Not until we steal enough supplies from the other lodgers to brave the catacombs."

"Bullshit. You just don't want to utilize your assets." The spoon came out of the oatmeal, pointed accusingly at Natela as the goop dripped onto the table. "Your father lives a few blocks from here, right? I bet he'd be happy to see you."

"He would, but we're not doing that."

"Maybe we could stay at his place for a few days. I bet you could even talk him into buying the supplies we need."

"No!" Natela was going to shut this down every time he asked. The last thing she wanted to do was go anywhere near her father, _especially_ with Avdantil in tow. "Leave my papa out of this!"

"Why?"

"I…" Natela felt some of the oatmeal churn in her belly. It was easy to forget about her father when she was on the road. The longer she stayed in Kalium City, the more memories came back to haunt her. "It's none of your business."

Avdantil leaned forward, close enough for her to feel his breath on her face. "We work together, Natela. Your whole life is my business." When she tried to back up, Avdantil grabbed both her wrists and held her in place. "I know your father's name is Josef Makatsarovich and he lives in a nice two bedroom townhouse in the art district. Those are pretty posh digs for a low-ranking government official. Did he bribe someone? I know he's gotten in trouble for that before: like the time he paid a Customs broker to look the other way when he smuggled in your Combee. And what about the time he—"

"STOP!" Natela yelled. It felt like all the blood in her body had pooled into her stomach. While the rest of her felt cold and lifeless, her soft gut felt hot and sour. "You're freaking me out! Who told you about that!?"

Avdantil didn't answer her. Instead, his dark eyes burned with a newfound vigor. It reminded Natela of the look Mr. Purrfect got in his eyes when he was about to pounce on a piece of prey. "Does your father know you're in Team Sigma, Natela?"

"No, but—"

"Did you have a falling out with him, then?"

"No!" What was Avdantil's deal? When did no stop meaning no!? If he brought this up again, she'd shove her spoon so far down his throat that he'd choke on it.

"I'm confused, then. When Aldous first told me about you, he made you sound like a Daddy's Girl."

"I used to be, but…" Natela's stomach felt like it was attempting to eat itself. She hugged her middle, trying to squish all that softness back inside her core. For once, that extra cushion was comforting. "Fathers are supposed to support their children's dreams, right?" When Avdantil nodded and let go of her hands, Natela slumped into her chair. Her whole frame felt like it was melting. "I have no doubt that my papa loves me, but he has _never_ supported me."

…

 **After what happened with Bogdan, Natela vowed to never sit in second place again. It was too late to convince Professor Myrtle to give her an Eevee, but she could at least make sure her grades were good enough to attend the college she wanted: the Zykova Harbor College of Journalism.**

 **More than anything, Natela wanted to be a television news reporter: just like her mother. Mariam Makatsaria had gotten her first big break when she reported on the Revolution of Liberation: when Premier Vasiliev's communist supporters mowed down any remaining known tsarist sympathizers. Neighbor turned against neighbor, bullets fell like rain drops in the city streets, and the whole continent watched in fear. The fighting came to an end when Vasiliev executed not only the tsar, but also the tsarina and their four daughters.**

 **Shortly after that, Vasiliev agreed to do in-person interviews with a TV reporter in every major Kinzonian city. For Kalium City, he chose Mariam. The interview made her one of the most popular reporters for the local news: a position she kept until a stray bullet hit her in the chest. Natela was only two years old when that happened, but her father had lovingly recorded every news segment where his wife had appeared on VCR. She'd watched every tape and knew them by heart.**

 **Attending her mother's alma mater and pursuing the same degree felt like the best possible way to honor her memory. Plus, Natela had always loved telling people how to think and feel. Good reporters had that kind of power. When she told her father that Zykova Harbor College had accepted her application; she thought he'd be happy for her. Instead, he gave her a nervous, forced smile: the sort he made whenever he found out a higher-ranking government official was coming for dinner.**

 **Natela wanted to go to the boardwalk and celebrate her accomplishments, and her father obliged. He didn't say much. All he really did was smile weakly and dispense money so she could play carnival games and eat junk food. She finally grew annoyed with the silence and herded him toward one of the boardwalk's benches.**

 **It was such a beautiful day outside! She could see the cruise ships in the harbor, as well as all the happy tourists lazing around the beach. The sky had never looked bluer and the ocean had never looked so clear. Why, then, was there this inescapable air of melancholia coming from her father? "What's wrong, Papa? I thought you'd be proud of me for wanting to do what Mama did."**

 **"I am, but…" Her father's sad smile began to stretch into a flat, nervous line. He was choosing his words carefully: all out of fear that a potential explosion could ensue. "Do you want my honest opinion, Natela?"**

 **"Would I have asked for it if I didn't?"**

 **"I don't know how far you'll manage to get with this career path. Don't get me wrong. I think you'd be great if a network gave you a chance, but—"**

 **"But what?" Even though Natela was wearing plush mittens over her hands, she could feel the cold metal of the bench's railing as she squeezed it tightly. The cold bothered her hands after a while. They'd hurt when she tried to peel them off the bench. "You don't think they would?"**

 **Slowly and weakly, her father shook his head. She didn't know if that meant that yes, he doubted they would…or no, his hesitance was rooted in something else.**

 **"Or are you afraid that I'll die on TV like Mama did?" She knew that was a low blow. When her mother was shot, her father had cried for days. He still blamed himself when he got drunk enough. "You can talk to me, Papa. What's wrong?"**

 **Her father reached for his handkerchief and dabbed at his face. All those years of hard work, long hours, and inability to cook had driven the both of them to fast food. As a result, his body had taken on a weird shape: thin and sickly in some places, but thick and plump in other places. Natela couldn't even see her father's jawline anymore. His chin and everything else had melted into his bloated neck, leaving him looking like a thumb with thinning brown hair and crooked glasses. "Natela…"**

 **"Yes?"**

 **Her father's eyes were the one feature Natela was glad she'd inherited. They were a piercing shade of blue: like the ice in the heart of a glacier. Those eyes looked her over from head to toe, then returned to meet her own. "I just think print journalism might be a better choice."**

 **Natela pursed her lips and let a deep breath hiss through her nose. She was seething! Her father didn't seem to understand that newspapers were going the way of the Omanytes and Aerodactyls. The next generation of successful reporters would share their messages via television and computers. People were more likely to sit in front of a screen than waste an hour reading a cheaply printed piece of paper, just to see if anything important was in it.**

 **"You're such a good writer," her father continued. "I still have a copy of that report you wrote about Wolfram Town. All my coworkers said it was one of the best-written pieces they'd ever—"**

 **"Stop!" Natela snapped. She hoped her father could see how much she was seething. His placations were only making the situation worse. "You're trying to get me to swap because I'm fat; aren't you?"**

 **"Nat—"**

 **"Or is it my skin? Hm? Well, guess what, Papa.** ** _Fast food causes acne and obesity_** **. If you hadn't been too lazy to cook healthy meals for us, then I'd probably be just as conventionally attractive as Mama! This?" She waved her hand across her pimply face, plump cheeks, large breasts, full belly, and thick thighs. "All of this is** ** _your_** **fault."**

 **She planned to exercise between her classes, as well as eat whatever healthy options were in the cafeteria. That food was covered as part of her scholarship and therefore free, so she might as well take advantage. She'd try any beauty product her new friends swore by: anything to make those whiteheads go away! She'd do** ** _anything_** **her professors suggested if it would give her a leg up and increase her chances of being picked.**

 **"I just think you should—"**

 **"TO HELL WITH WHAT YOU THINK, PAPA!" Natela shrieked, getting up from the bench. "I'M GOING TO BE A TV REPORTER, WHETHER YOU LIKE IT OR NOT!"**

 **…**

"He isn't my family anymore, Avdantil. Team Sigma is my family now."

Aldous, of course, was in the center of her universe: a man she respected, adored, and lusted over. Then there was Neil: a half-Unovan robotics enthusiast who joined Team Sigma around the same time she did. His tongue was every bit as sharp as Natela's and she could spend entire afternoons gossiping over tea and talking shit about the other Gammas with him. Next was Janet: a pixie-like girl who looked like a twelve-year-old but was such a good programmer that the KSP hired her. She had dirt on _everyone_.

Team Sigma believed in Natela's potential and gave her the tools to make the most of her natural skills. Their platform encouraged excellence and she had every intention of chasing after it.

She'd done all in her power to please Aldous whenever possible. No mission was too dangerous, too challenging, or too humiliating. Whatever her Beta wanted, she'd bend over backwards to do it because he believed in her. Until Cynthia came along, her mission statistics were a near-perfect score. If she and Avdantil brought the Ædranos Spiritomb back to headquarters, all would be forgiven. She'd be perfect again!

"That includes you, just so you know. You're like an annoying little brother I never knew I wanted." Avdantil said nothing in response to that. He just kept eating. Natela could live with his disappointment, but not Aldous's.

 _Never_ Aldous's.

…

 **"I'm afraid this isn't going to work, Comrade Makatsaria. You're certainly qualified and I'm sure another station would be more than glad to take you on board, but—"**

 **"Why?" Natela cut off the interviewer. Her face was starting to burn. When she blinked, she felt the all-too-familiar stinging sensation of tears. "I have the degree you want and I received top marks! I even interned at this station last summer! What more do you want from me?!"**

 **Kalium City News didn't realize how many sacrifices Natela Makatsaria had made for them.**

 **When she noticed all the female reporters were blonde, she bleached her hair. She kept the peroxide on her head even after her scalp started to burn, just to make sure it was blonde enough. Some of her hair fell out. Other parts had taken on a weird stretchy texture and snapped off when she tried to detangle it. After it started to grow back, she paid a professional to do it the right way and got it touched up every few weeks to hide her dark roots.**

 **She also saw the reporters' dazzling white smiles and promptly cut coffee, juice, and dark sodas from her diet. When that didn't give her the results she wanted fast enough, Natela told her father that she wanted Kalosian teeth-whitening strips for her birthday. It didn't matter that they were capitalist contraband. If he wanted her forgiveness for trying to steer her away from her dream job, then he'd get them. He caved.**

 **Natela dropped fast food altogether and spent two hours in the college gym three times a week. Not only did she lose 15 kilos, but she could now jog up and down the Zykova Stairs without breaking a sweat and run marathons. This was the healthiest, strongest, and best she'd ever looked or felt.**

 **But even with all that hard work, she was still curvier than the reporters and didn't notice any change with her skin. It was still oily, still prone to breakouts, and still pockmarked by all the zits she continued to pop as they cropped up.**

 **"I practically sold my soul to you people! And you…you…" It was getting harder to talk with every word. The sobs were choking what she wanted to say. "What more could you possibly want? What else do I have to give up before you'll give me a chance?!"**

 **"Natela…" The interviewer shook his head very slowly. "Please, calm down and let me explain why we're moving ahead with a different candidate. We recognize all your hard work, as well as your passion; but the truth is no one should have permitted you to move forward with this career choice in the first place. They were setting you up for failure when they did."**

 **"Wuh…?" She tried to say** ** _what_** **, but it came out wrong.**

 **"You and I both know that there is a certain kind of face people are used to seeing on television. Yours isn't it. Earlier, when I said another station might hire you; I was only being polite out of respect for your father's position and your mother's past contributions to this channel. I don't think you'll ever land a TV job. Radio, maybe. A newspaper, maybe. But—"**

 **"I know we aren't supposed to believe in Hell anymore," Natela growled, getting up, "but I hope you burn in it. I'm going to tell the Commissariat of Labor how this interview went and report you for discrimination."**

 **"Discrimination?" The interviewer's eyes grew big when he heard that. "** ** _What_** **discrimination? I didn't—"**

 **Natela didn't wait for him to finish. She stormed out and slammed the door behind her. There was so much force in that move that two of the Reporter of the Year plaques fell off the wall and hit the floor. Instead of picking up the fallen plaques, she pressed her back to the wall and let her grief out at full blast.**

 **It wasn't fair! Professor Myrtle didn't give her an Eevee because Bogdan worked harder than she did. She took that lesson to heart and threw everything she had at this job…and she** ** _still_** **didn't get it. '** ** _What am I missing? What else do they expect me to do?!_** **'**

 **Between her cries, Natela could hear the sound of shoes making contact with the linoleum. It was getting louder. Someone was coming: probably a security guard to escort her out of the building. She hugged herself in an attempt to soothe her body into stopping the crying fit, but it didn't work.**

 **'** ** _Maybe Papa was right. But if hard work doesn't pay off, why even bother? Why should I have to torture myself like this if it doesn't pay out?_** **'**

 **The footsteps stopped, but Natela could see a man's shadow on the floor. She glanced up and felt her face grow hot for a reason other than anger. This time, it was shame. This man was quite possibly the most beautiful human being she'd ever seen in person, and his first impression of her was as a weepy mess with runny makeup and a snotty nose. He had stopped walking and both his cobalt blue eyes were looking straight at her.**

 **"Here," he said, holding out a paisley handkerchief. "I think you need this more than I do."**

 **Natela mumbled a quick thanks as she accepted the fabric. She dabbed at her eyes, all the while wondering how much her mascara had smeared. She couldn't find the waterproof kind at the drugstore. Since she couldn't bring herself to talk yet, she just gave the man a weak smile to express her gratitude.**

 **The man smiled back in a rather gentle, caring way. Up close, she could see a few white hairs in his sapphire blue locks. It was only at the front of his hairline. Everything else was neatly slicked back with pomade. His eyes looked down, taking note of the manila folder clutched tightly in Natela's arms and the VISITOR badge on the lanyard around her neck. "You were here for an interview, weren't you? I'm guessing it didn't go well?"**

 **Natela's eyes welled up again and she slowly nodded her head. "It's not fair," she whimpered. "I worked so hard."**

 **The man found a spot beside Natela and leaned against it. "Hard work is important, but sometimes that isn't enough. Did they have any complaints with your grades?"**

 **"No," Natela insisted, feeling her rage start to grow again. "I had the highest GPA for my program all four years I attended."**

 **"That's very impressive." The man reached in his pocket for a carton of cigarettes and pulled one out. As he reached for his lighter, he asked Natela another question. "And which college did you attend, if you don't mind me asking?"**

 **"Zykova Harbor. It's the best school in south Kinzo for TV journalism." The tears were starting to come back. "I don't get it. I worked so hard for this…and the only reason these people could give me for why they're moving ahead with another candidate is because I'm not pretty enough for television."**

 **The man's sigh went on for so long that Natela wondered if he'd ever run out of air. He turned to face her and placed a hand on top of hers. "That isn't something you can control."**

 **"I tried to!" Natela confessed. "I changed my hair, my diet, my teeth, my—"**

 **"You never should have had to do that in the first place. People who are passionate about their work should be allowed to pursue it. And those who put in the hours and get results should be rewarded for it. You met every single requirement this job asked of you, yet you were passed over for something so superficial. I'd be angry, too, were I you."**

 **Natela's eyes grew big when she heard that. Even her papa would have found a candy-coated way to tell her that she'd made a mistake. There was only so much he could do for her, after all. And he wasn't getting any younger. "You would?"**

 **"My dear girl, I'd be ready to burn the building down!" The man blew a cloud of cigarette smoke into the air. It didn't smell like normal tobacco. There was something almost perfumey about it. "I can't help you get this job, but I might be able to get you a different one. How do you feel about print journalism?"**

 **Natela's heart sank when she heard those two dreaded words. "That's what my papa wanted me to study," she grumbled. She wanted one of this man's cigarettes, even though she'd never smoked a day in her life. She held out her hand for one and was pleased to see he was feeling generous. "It's okay, I guess. I just really had my heart set on being a TV personality."**

 **"I know," the man replied calmly, "but I don't have as many connections at this newstation as I do at the Kalium City Mirror. They're looking for a columnist to cover once-a-week updates on the Kinzo Pokémon League. If you work hard, it could grow into more."**

 **Maybe working for a newspaper wouldn't be the end of the world after all. Maybe she could do this for a few years, work on her résumé, and try again. Each time a TV reporter died, retired, quit, or transferred to another station; Natela would apply. Until then, she'd let her rage fuel her. "What do you get out of this?"**

 **"Ah." The edges of the man's lips curled into an almost catlike smile. "You caught on. No one in Kinzo does anything out of pity or kindness anymore, do they?"**

 **No, they did not. No one could afford to. "What do you** ** _get_** **out of this?" Natela repeated, dreading the answer.**

 **"You," the man answered calmly. "You won't just report to the paper. You'll be my eyes and ears there. I'm trying to make this world a fairer place, my dear. But in order to do that, I need people like you to help rewrite the narrative and change how people think."**

 **…**

Aldous had saved her. He believed in a perfect matrimony between literature and logic. Words could be arranged in such a way to get a person to believe a statement. He'd taught Natela how to do the same thing with numbers and reputable sources. Even the most obtuse, directly-written piece of verbiage could be twisted and contorted in such a way that Natela could warp people's perceptions to believe the exact opposite.

Any hack could write. Any hacker could code. A hack who knew how to hack both ways could reshape the world from the inside out.

Natela understood knew her role in Team Sigma, but was less sure about her partner's role. She didn't see how Avdantil fit into the equation. He was a sadistic, twisted brute prone to explosive fits of rage. When he told her what happened to Guano Lisa, Natela wanted to scream. It wasn't the Zubat's fault she was more interested in mating than battling.

One of these days; she was convinced Avdantil's Pokémon would rise up, band together, and tear him to shreds. Maybe they'd take turns. Maybe Bidoofus would go in for the kill and chomp down on his neck. If that day ever happened, Natela wouldn't stop him. Those were the meanest, scariest Pokémon she had ever seen. Only Bidoofus seemed to have any gentleness left in him, and even that was debatable.

"I still think that staying here is a stupid move," Avdantil insisted. "Your father could give us free room and board and no one would think to look for us there."

"You're assuming he wouldn't call the police. I don't think he would, but he could. I'm not dragging him into this."

"Then you aren't just being wasteful, Natela. You're being selfish and petty, too. Not all of us have good relationships with our parents. Just look at some of the other Gammas."

Natela's eyes went back down to her oatmeal when Avdantil said that. She knew most of Aldous's Gammas, as well as a few in other departments. Janet's mother died when she was ten and she'd only just met her father two years ago. One of Natela's ex-boyfriends was in Team Sigma now, too. His father beat the shit out of him every time they argued and his current partner had it just as bad.

She didn't want to be guilt-tripped, though. That was the entire reason she wouldn't stop by and say hello. As much as she loved her father, she was scared to death that he'd find out she was in Team Sigma and try to talk her out of it. "I guess it was easier when I was little because he could buy my happiness with pretty dresses and nice toys. We're far beyond that now."

If they visited, her father would did everything in his power to urge her to stay longer. If Natela agreed to stay for lunch, he'd intentionally order delivery from one of the slowest restaurants in the city. If she said she had to leave first thing in the morning, she'd smell frozen pastries baking in the kitchen and he'd be at the table: imploring her to join him. If she needed to leave in the afternoon, she would hear 'one more thing' so many times that it would turn dark outside. Then her papa would use the city's curfew as an excuse for her to 'just stay for one more night. It isn't any trouble.'

"He even pulled the _your grandma is dying_ card on me a few months ago, just to see if I'd show up for her birthday."

Avdantil cringed when she said that. He'd finished his bowl of oatmeal by now and was eyeing Natela's. She didn't feel hungry anymore, so she pushed it over to him. "Was your grandmother actually sick?"

"That's not the point. My _point_ is my papa's a distraction. I can't give him half my attention and only offer Aldous what's leftover. I owe Team Sigma my full commitment. I have to cut all _muda_ out of my life, and my papa is nothing but waste."

Out of the corner of Natela's eye, she saw Cynthia and the redheaded woman leave the dining area. The boy with the missing eyebrows stayed behind and gave his Eevee a piece of bacon from his breakfast tray. A fat old lady moved to sit at the table with him. Not once did they even look Natela and Avdantil's way.

"Alright," Avdantil conceded. "I'll drop the subject. But you know you can talk to me about this sort of thing, right? It might have gone in one ear and out the other with your father, but _I_ hear you."

Natela gave Avdantil a weak smile. He was far from a perfect man. Most of the time, all she felt toward him was fear or frustration. But when Avdantil wanted to be, he could be gentle. Those moments were rare, but she appreciated every single one of them. "Thanks."

"Why don't we just leave?" Avdantil asked. "We've already done everything we set out to do here. If we take what we stole from the other lodgers and hit the catacombs this afternoon; we might even make it to Hydrargyrum City before Aldous does."

Natela looked down at her coffee one last time. Like many Kalium City natives, she used to play in the tunnels. Avdantil would be counting on her to navigate them to Hydrargyrum City. If she fucked this up, they'd never see the light of day again. "Okay," she conceded. "Let's finish up here and take inventory. If we're missing anything essential, we'll buy it before we go underground." The Kalium Catacombs would be gross, dirty, and filled with low-leveled Pokémon; but it beat having to show themselves to the police. "Sound like a plan?"

Avdantil got up, but his eyes were still on Cyrus. He really wanted to go over there and start something, but finally conceded. Natela knew best.

She always did.


	44. All Clear!

"I'm so glad y'all loved the art museum."

 _Love_ was a bit too strong of a word. The exhibit was interesting, but not enough for Cyrus to say he loved it. He gave Campanella a tired little smile and went back to eating his breakfast: instant oatmeal with a bit of cinnamon sugar.

The flavor struck him as a bit weird. In Sinnoh, cinnamon was typically used as a spice for savory meat dishes. In Kinzo, people liked to mix it with sugar and use it as a flavor for candies, toothpaste, and even drinks. They did the same thing with clove and star anise, which was equally odd and off-putting.

Scooping the spiced bits out of the oatmeal proved to be a lost cause. Since it couldn't be avoided, Cyrus gave up on the dish altogether. At least he still had six more of Renata's cookies and today was his last day on the antibiotics.

Thinking that Eevee would eat his oatmeal, he put the bowl on the floor. Sure enough, the Pokémon hopped out of his lap and lapped up the food. Every few seconds, Cyrus heard a faint _myum nyum nyum_ noise coming from the little brown fluffball. As cute as the sound was—and even though he could hear Cynthia stifle an occasional giggle—he gave no indication that he heard it.

Instead, he sat in silence as Campanella continued to ramble about Kalium City's art scene. Nothing she said was of any interest to him, but he'd still feign amusement to be polite. "I've planned another super-fun, low impact day for us today."

"Another museum?" Cyrus hoped he sounded more neutral than rude.

Campanella playfully slammed her coffee mug down as though it were a beer stein. "Yep! Kalium City's chock full of 'em! Why, the three of us could spend an entire week going to all the different art museums—but I ain't gonna subject y'all to that."

' _Good call._ '

"That said, there's three big things every tourist needs to see while they're in Kalium: the Zykova Stairs, the Riviera, and the Wonderful World of Wax Museum. Y'all're gonna see the Stairs when you challenge Jet, an' Cynthia's already been to the Riviera."

"Mmhmm." Cynthia was absentmindedly finger-brushing her hair or possibly looking for split ends. Cyrus couldn't tell. "The Riviera was pretty cool, but I don't know if anything there would interest you, Cyrus. It's just a beach, a boardwalk, and a lot of shops. It's probably not that different from Sunyshore City's beach; just colder."

A Kinzonian beach was probably _very_ different, but Cyrus decided to keep that opinion to himself. Sunyshore's beaches were typically kept in pristine condition. The best ones were privately owned by various communities and only families who paid dues to those HOAs could use them. There were biking trails all over the place and solar panels near the roads.

He somehow suspected Kalium City's Riviera would be colder, louder, and in a state of mild disrepair: just like virtually everything else he'd seen so far. "I think I can pass on the Riviera. Honestly, I think I'm going to pass on the wax museum, too."

"Aw, really?" Campanella seemed more than a little disappointed with his answer. She looked at Cyrus as though she hadn't heard him properly, but he knew he'd spoken rather clearly. "You're sure? I know it sounds boring, but I promise it's fun! They keep statues of all the big-name national celebrities: movie stars, Kinzo League members—even some important historical figures! You can spend an entire day in that museum and still not see everything."

Up until that moment, Cynthia had been more focused on her breakfast than Campanella. This changed everything. "Hold on. They have statues of the Kinzo League in there!? Cyrus! That could give us a sneak peek at the other Gym Leaders—maybe even the Champion and the Elite Four!"

' _Great. Now it's two against one_.' He felt like a dick just for speaking his mind. "It's not like I'm keeping you from going without me. It's just that wax figures give me the creeps."

They fell somewhere in his uncanny valley: not quite human enough to pass as the real deal but close enough to make him uncomfortable. Robots and AI programs didn't typically invoke that kind of revulsion from Cyrus. That only happened when their creators tried to make them look as human as possible and failed. It was one thing to see an actor play an android on TV. It was another thing entirely to see a real one in action.

His mother's job involved a lot of travel between nearby regions like Kanto and Hoenn. She was regularly invited to represent the Devon Corporation at expos, oftentimes managing a booth or running a panel. After Cyrus turned ten, Nichole offered to let him shadow her. So long as he promised to behave, he could explore the convention and look at all the new tech. She didn't mind because it was a STEM-related activity and she wanted to encourage her son's curiosity in robotics and engineering.

Last year, Cyrus tagged along for a tech expo in Sootopolis City. Most of the booths were rather pedestrian—new types of Poké Balls, more medical equipment for Pokémon Centers, and even a Pokédex—but one very enthusiastic freelancer from Hoenn claimed that he'd created the radio DJ of the future.

The "DJ" looked like a department store mannequin dressed in a women's business suit and a sparkly pink scarf. Her creator said she could download and memorize a 500-song playlist, say about 100 preprogrammed statements, and had AI advanced enough to figure out what was most appropriate to say if somebody called the station. She could also sing along to any song in her downloaded playlist. Cyrus remembered telling the inventor that he was very impressed with his creation.

Then the goddamn thing moved.

It jerked its head nearly 90 degrees and asked him in a creepy artificial voice if he wanted to hear a song. He didn't. Instead, he bolted out of the room and hid in the bathroom for two hours. Nichole took him home early, but also did nothing to hide her disappointment.

The look Campanella was giving him right now was rather similar, though more aggressive than passive. She seemed to take personal offense over his polite refusal. "You're sure, kiddo? It's not like they move. They're just a bunch of—"

"Campanella…" Cynthia interrupted, her tone getting a bit pointed. "Cyrus doesn't have to go. He said no."

Ever since their spat two days ago, Cynthia seemed to be making a conscious effort to self-correct herself. She'd since stopped volunteering Cyrus for things and was going out of her way to make sure that he was a willing participant. He didn't have the heart to tell her that she'd gone slightly overboard. The fact she was trying at all showed how much she cared.

When Campanella wasn't looking, he mouthed a silent _thanks_ in Cynthia's direction. She gave him a little wink in solidarity.

"I need to go to the hospital for my final checkup, anyway." Additional excuses shouldn't have been necessary, but a firm _no_ wasn't enough for some people. "And I already have plans for this afternoon."

There were no more pills. Assuming the doctor gave him a clean bill of health today, the plan was to go Nosepass hunting with Renata in the Kalium Catacombs. That sounded a million times more interesting than being dragged through a museum of not-quite-people and feeling perpetually unnerved.

Cynthia gave Campanella's braid a quick, playful tug. "Let's make it a Girls Day Out," she suggested. "I can even ask Lulu if she wants to tag along. I bet she'd love this! And hey, even you just want it to be the two of us, I'm know we'll have a great time. I want to see what the Kinzo League looks like—and the tsars! Are there any statues of the tsars in there?"

"Yeah, uh…there's a tsar or two in there. I think…"

"Great! I'm gonna see if anyone else wants to come!" Cynthia got out of her chair and grabbed her bag excitedly. Campanella followed her, but Cynthia took one last moment to mouth two words silently to Cyrus: _have fun_. He mouthed back _you too_ …and then realized they'd both left their trash behind.

' _Dammit, Cynthia..._ '

Cyrus grumbled a few more choice words and stacked the trays so he could get everything in one go. His body still hurt from all the stitches, but at least they were coming out today. Provided nothing had gone wrong since he left the hospital, this would (hopefully) be the last time he'd need to see a doctor for a good long while.

"Come on, Eevee. Let's find Renata." The Pokémon made a happy sound and pranced beside him, head held high. As Cyrus dumped the trash into the bin, he noticed Eevee had an oatmeal mustache. "Ugh. That's nasty. You're gross, Eevee."

"Vee!"

"Hold on. Let me get that." Cyrus pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbed at Eevee's mouth. He half expected the Pokémon to jerk his head away in protest, but he stayed put and swished his tail to show he was ready to play. "You're very well behaved. I guess Professor Myrtle spent a lot of time socializing you, huh?"

As if to prove his point, Eevee licked his fingers and lightly bumped his head against the boy's hand.

Cyrus gently stroked the top of Eevee's head and moved to scratch behind his long ears. "I have a Houndour in quarantine. If I tried to do this to him, he'd bite me."

Houndour wasn't necessarily a violent Pokémon. He just had a lot of pent-up energy and very few opportunities to channel it. Cyrus was rarely allowed to let his Pokémon out at home. Houndour and Murkrow could go entire weeks (if not months) in their balls. No wonder they were so frustrated.

By mid-May, he'd have them back…but he'd also have to return Eevee to Professor Myrtle.

When he first started in Natrium Town, he hadn't particularly cared one way or the other. But for whatever reason, Eevee decided they were best friends now and it was clear the Pokémon adored him. He'd been difficult for Cynthia because he missed Cyrus so much. Now Eevee was on his best behavior: happy to eat unwanted food and even have his face cleaned.

As Cyrus reached for Eevee's ball, he realized he was going to miss him after all.

There were several people in the lobby, so it took a while to locate Renata. He finally spotted her reading a book near the fireplace. By now, he knew enough Kinzonian to recognize the letters, but not enough to know the words. To announce his presence, he cleared his throat. When the old lady looked up at him, he gave her a quick and awkward wave. "доброе утро."

Renata shut the book and grinned excitedly. "Why, good morning to you, too!" It took her a moment to get up, mostly because her joints were stiff. "Today's the big day, isn't it? No more antibiotics?" Just to prove it, Cyrus held up the empty pill bottle. "Wonderful!"

"I'm sorry I bailed on you yesterday," Cyrus apologized. "Campanella dragged us to an art museum. It's kind of hard to say no to her."

Renata chuckled and put the book back in its place on the communal shelf. "It's quite alright, dear. I'm just glad you kept our bargain about not doing anything too taxing. I _did_ promise your father I'd keep an eye on you, though. It's probably best that we don't mention yesterday to him. Sound good?"

' _It's kind of cute that you think I'd willingly talk to my dad at_ **all** _._ ' Cyrus knew how sarcastic those words would sound, so he settled for something a lot more pleasant when he spoke up. "My lips are sealed. So, did you want to take me to the hospital for that checkup, or…?"

"Yes, of course! Follow me, dear. I'm about to introduce you to Vishnya!"

"Vishnya?" Had she ever mentioned a Vishnya before? The name wasn't ringing any bells. "I'm not sure I'm up for meeting any new people today, Renata. Can't we just—"

"Honey, Vishnya's my car. She's so cute that I had to name her!"

…

Renata wasn't kidding about the car being cute. Vishnya was a bright red, sporty two-door coupe that "meeped" rather than beeped. Its interior was entirely white leather, save for the black stick shift for the manual transmission. Not only did it have a radio, but the car also came with a cassette player: something Cyrus had yet to see in any other Kinzonian car.

"Sterling got her for me in '82, right after he placed first in a big ES tournament. If anyone in the Kinzo League retired or died that year, he'd be next in line to fill the empty spot. I was so proud of him."

Renata's voice dripped with pride, but also with a bittersweet longing. Just two days ago, Cyrus knew nothing about this woman's husband. Now he knew that Mr. Cordova spent his whole life trying to become a Gym Leader and never succeeded. 1982 was probably as close as he ever got, but Cyrus knew how the story ended. Mr. Cordova was later defeated by someone else. This car was nothing but an empty promise: a false hope that went nowhere.

"He joked that this car was a trophy for his trophy wife. You should have seen the look on my daughter's face when I came home! She'd just turned sixteen and was like, _Ma! Ma, can I drive your car? Be a good comrade and let me take her for a spin!_ " The old lady snickered as she cranked the ignition and backed out. She stopped only once: just long enough to look Cyrus in the eye and confide one last thing: "I was not a good comrade. I _never_ let her drive this car."

…

"You're in luck. All these stitches can come out today."

Great! That still didn't mean he wanted to watch the doctor take them out. Skin wasn't supposed to tug like that. Cyrus felt mildly ill, so he shut his eyes and tried to ignore what was going on. Maybe talking would be better than concentrating on how cold the doctor's fingers felt on his bare arm. "I guess the cuts weren't as deep as I thought."

The doctor chuckled in a laidback, easygoing way: as if this were something he did a hundred times a week. "It wasn't so much the depth of the cuts as it was the number of them. You had so many that we were scared you'd bleed to death before we even operated."

"I could have gone all day without you telling me that."

Doctors weren't the type to exaggerate. Suddenly, Cynthia screaming her head off in the Battle Car was beginning to make a lot more sense. Even days later, she was visibly distraught. She tried to put on a good show of acting like everything was fine when she came to visit; but her fear was palpable. She acted like she didn't expect him to recover from his injuries.

"I didn't realize it was that bad."

The doctor waved one hand in the air as if to dismiss Cyrus's words. "Oh, patching you up was the _easy_ part! If the Pokémon that attacked you wasn't poisonous, this would have been an outpatient procedure. You could have stitched you up and sent you back to the Trainers Lodge, but we have to monitor detoxes very carefully. Some people are allergic to antibiotics. Others have bodies that give up halfway through the detox process."

"I see…" He didn't want to talk about this for too long. Why didn't the doctor just hurry up and get this over with? At least he'd finished working on his arm and moved to his back. Needles and stitches grossed Cyrus out, but he couldn't avoid looking at them if he knew they were there. This at least meant he could look out the window and pretend he wasn't here for a few seconds.

"You want to avoid another long hospital stay? Make nice with your Golbat. He clearly doesn't like you."

' _And the sky is blue. Are you serious?_ _ **This**_ _is the kind of sage advice I can expect from Kinzo's trained physicians? Why did I even bother asking Renata to take me here? I could have just asked her to cut the stitches herself!'_

"Next, get him to bite you every once in a while." Cyrus turned his head around as much as he could, just so he could scowl at the doctor and show him how confused he was. "I know, I know. We just detoxed you, so why the rush to poison yourself again? Have you ever heard of mithridatism?"

"No."

"It's when you intentionally poison yourself in little doses until you build up a tolerance. It only works with some poisons, but you can build up a tolerance to most Pokémon-based toxins. That includes Golbat venom."

Both of Cyrus's Pokémon were in his bag. Eevee's ball was wiggling around happily, but Golbat's remained perfectly still. Ever since Renata broke him out of the hospital, he'd had made a conscious effort to spend a lot of time with Eevee. The same could not be said for Golbat. Who in their right mind would want to spend quality time with something that attacked them? "This isn't just some weird Kinzonian remedy, is it? People actually do this?"

The doctor rolled his eyes. " _Yes_ , kid. They do. People have been doing it for thousands of years. Even one of our Gym Leaders does it and Belladonna just turned 60. Mithridatism can be quite safe, assuming you do it properly. Just let Golbat scratch or bite you once a week: just enough to draw blood."

"And I'll become immune?"

The doctor laughed so hard he nearly fell out of his chair. He playfully slapped Cyrus's back, which hurt. The boy gave him another dirty look for that. "Ha ha ha ha nooooo! Not quite! You'll still get sick, but at least it won't kill you." He held out Cyrus's shirt for him, still with that playful smile on his face.

"We're done?" Cyrus asked, hesitant to put on the shirt until he received an all clear. "All the stitches are out?"

"Да, but your skin is still healing. It could rip open again if you don't give it time to heal; so don't do anything too crazy for a while, okay? No rock climbing, heavy lifting, or fist fights for a week. Got it?"

"Yes, sir." Not that he ever did any of those things to begin with. At least he could finally leave.

Not wanting to give the doctor any more excuses to chat him up, Cyrus hurried back into the hall and made his way to the waiting room. Sound asleep in the far left corner was Renata, a magazine half-open on her lap. Doctor appointments always lasted longer than people thought, so she probably got bored with waiting and nodded off. Cyrus almost felt a little bad about nudging her shoulder to wake her up.

"Hm…hey." Renata's smile was sleepy and a bit sheepish. "I didn't mean to pass out on you, dear. How did everything go?"

"I don't have to come back here. We're done." Cyrus could barely contain his relief. "He wants me to take it easy until my skin fully heals, but I'm otherwise fine."

"That's such a relief!" Renata wrapped her plump arms around Cyrus and gave him a light, careful hug. She felt soft and cuddly: like an oversized stuffed animal that smelled like old potpourri and shortbread cookies. "You had us all scared these past few days. The Beridze kids, those Kantonese boys, that skinny girl with the Abra— _lots_ of folks have been asking about you. Did you want to head back to the Lodge and catch up with everyone?"

"Uh…" No. As nice as it was to hear that Isaac and the others had wished him well these past few days, Cyrus still wasn't feeling terribly social. "You mentioned wanting to catch a Nosepass for your granddaughter. Can we do that?"

"We most certainly can!" The grin on Renata's face was so big that her double chin briefly turned into a triple. "And this won't put any strain on your body. Where we're going, just be prepared to walk up and down a loooooot of stairs…"

…

"It's here?" It didn't look like it. All Cyrus could see was a big parking lot and a large building off in the distance. When Renata shook her head, he gave her a look. "Okay, so no? What are we doing here, then?"

"I need to buy a few supplies. I promise this won't take long."

Despite Renata's best efforts to park her roadster close to the big concrete building, all she managed to find was a compact place adjacent to a dumpster at the edge of the lot. Even with the car windows closed, the nearby air smelled like rotten seafood and spoiled produce. Cyrus tried his best not to gag, but he ended up making a retching noise anyway. "What is this place, Renata?"

Renata pulled the key out of the ignition and shut off the car. "This is the Kalium City Farmers Market. It's kind of like a PokéMart, a supermarket, and a craft fair all rolled into one. They only sell handmade and homegrown items, but their options tend to be cheaper and healthier than what you can buy in chain stores. Would you be so kind as to hand me my bag, dear? It's on the floorboard, by your feet."

"Hm? Oh. Sure." Cyrus crouched down and hoisted up a canvas tote. There wasn't much in there at present: just a flashlight and a couple of pre-wrapped, brick-shaped things that resembled miniature fruitcakes. "How much are you planning to buy?"

"Not too much: just some snacks and drinks for us, some herbal remedies for our Pokémon, and some batteries from the convenience store across the street. All in all, I'm estimating this could take me fifteen minutes at most. Did you want to come with me and look around, or would you rather wait in the car? I'm fine either way."

"I'd rather wait. Shopping doesn't interest me." To him, it wasn't so much a fun pastime as it was a tedious chore.

When he was first learning how to read, his mother insisted on taking him along for her weekly grocery run. Nichole would give Cyrus the list and ask him to help her find what she needed. At first, finding an item (for instance, a box of rice noodles) was good enough. She'd pat him on the top of his head, ruffle his hair, and tell him he'd done a good job.

Later, she took it a step further and asked Cyrus to find specific brands…and then specific SKUs. If the store didn't carry her preferred SKU, a ten minute trip could easily turn into two hours. Nichole obsessively read every competitor brand's ingredients list until she found a suitable alternative.

Convinced that even the world's most patient child would have found this ridiculous, Cyrus tried to hurry her up by putting one of the store brand boxes in the cart. Nichole had given him a firm, disapproving look for that. "I promise I'm not doing this to annoy you," she insisted. "I'm doing this because your father is allergic to half of the things in this store. You don't want me to feed him something that could kill him, do you?" He stopped complaining after that.

Eleven years later, and Nichole's habits were so deeply ingrained in Cyrus that his first trip to a Kinzonian PokéMart was a SKU hunt. All he did was jot down the part numbers, costs, and locations for every item he suspected would be a frequent purchase: Silph Co. Poké Balls, Potions, Repels, and so on. That way, the next time he had to buy something, he'd have a pre-planned list and budget in mind. If no one was ahead of him in line, he could be in and out of the store in less than two minutes.

Cynthia's shopping method was the polar opposite of Nichole's but every bit as frustrating to deal with. She'd go into stores without any sort of action plan. Aisle to aisle, she'd drift: wondering if she needed to upgrade her Potions to Super Potions or if it was more cost effective to buy Poké Balls in bulk or invest in Great Balls. Her "quick runs to the store" always lasted upwards of an hour.

Expecting Renata to look disappointed, Cyrus was surprised to see she appeared more amused than anything else. "That's alright, dear. Just tell me what kind of snacks and drinks you want me to look for."

"I'm fine with anything," Cyrus insisted, hoping that he came across as agreeable rather than disinterested. Just a few days ago, Renata convinced him to eat a pine-flavored shortbread cookie and it was delicious. She clearly knew which local foods were good, so he'd defer to her expertise. "I'll just sit here and guard your car."

The thought of him guarding anything must have tickled Renata's funny bone. He could hear her laughing all the way down the parking lot. As soon as she was out of sight, Cyrus leaned his seat all the way back and shut his eyes. Considering how much walking they'd be doing today, he wanted to save his stamina.

' _Maybe I should call Professor Myrtle tonight. I don't want to assume someone else told her what happened to me._ ' While he was in the hospital, Cynthia had worn herself ragged. It was highly plausible (and understandable) that she forgot to notify Myrtle. Campanella had yet to strike Cyrus as anything remotely close to responsible. She'd outright ditched them in the previous town and he hadn't forgotten.

' _At least I won't be coming into that call empty-handed. Neither one of us has reported anything new since Cynthia caught her Spiritomb. It's not like either of us planned my stint in the hospital, but that doesn't change the fact we've been idle. I'm out now. It's time to do my job. She's not paying me to sleep in a bed and lick my wounds._

 _'Obviously, the fastest way to get back on track would be to challenge the Gym Leader, get our Potassium Badges, and head over to Hydrargyrum City. Whatever we do, that needs to happen this week…and it's not just to make up for lost time. Without that badge, I can't guarantee Golbat will listen to me._ '

Like most Pokémon, Golbat enjoyed battling. More specifically, he enjoyed winning. Even though a victory would put him in a better mood, Cyrus couldn't control him anymore. If Golbat at least liked him, that would be one thing; but he obviously didn't. Ever since he got out of the hospital, he'd been too afraid to call him out without another person present. What if it came after him again the way it had in the Battle Car?

' _I don't even know what I can do to bond with him. Badges might be my only viable—_ '

"Yoohoo!"

The sound of Renata tapping her knuckles on the car startled Cyrus, abruptly pulling him out of his thoughts. He lifted up the seat and saw her grin at him nearly from ear to ear. She held up the bag excitedly and gestured for him to get out and see her spectacular haul. "I told you I had this down to an art form. That whole trip only took me twelve minutes! Care to see what I bought for today?"

The bag was filled to the brim with more of the fruitcake-looking things, a few vials filled with pastel-colored powders, some hand-crafted Poké Balls made out of Apricorns, half a dozen crocheted Poké Dolls, and a couple of large green herbs with curly leaves. Tucked away in the corner were two sealed bottles of what appeared to be lemonade with leaves in it and a bag of large, thin-looking bagels.

"I bought us each a bottle of mint lemonade and a bag of assorted _baranki_. There's mustard, saffron, vanilla, Sitrus, and poppy seed in here. I love them all, so feel free pick the flavors you like more and I'll take what's leftover. Now, for our Pokémon; I bought some Heal Powder, Energy Powder, and Revival Herbs. They're bitter, so most Pokémon don't care for the taste; but they're stronger than anything you could buy at the PokéMart."

"That's neat. I didn't even know there were herbal alternatives."

For everything Pokémon-related, Cyrus's main source of information had been Cynthia. Since she'd completed two other regional challenges, he trusted her expertise when it came to held items, medicine, and what to do when his Pokémon were sick or injured. But as good a resource as she was, she'd never mentioned herbal medicine.

Maybe she didn't know about it. If so, maybe he could take her here after his battle against Jet tomorrow. If these drugs truly did work better, then why pay extra money for something less effective?

Figuring out what the powders and herbs were for was easy. The only medical items he was stuck on were those weird fruitcake things. He picked one up and asked Renata what it was for.

"That's a Berry Bar. They're a special blend of twelve different berries and nuts. If you give one to a Pokémon, you can heal any status problems and restore 2 PP for all their known moves. Everything else I showed you, you can probably get at an herbalist shop in another region; but Berry Bars are a local specialty. I've done a lot of traveling to support my family in international tournaments, but I've yet to find these things outside of Kinzo."

"What about the dolls?" Medicine and food made sense, but toys? That didn't make any sense to him. "Are they souvenirs?"

"Good guess, but no. These are our escape plan!" He threw Renata a weird, puzzled look for that. "Since we're hoping to catch Pokémon today, it didn't make any sense to buy Repel. You can use dolls to distract wild Pokémon and run away. That way, we won't waste moves or our Pokémon's health on things we don't intend to catch.

"I know we're aiming to catch a Nosepass for my granddaughter; but we can catch something for you, too. The Kalium Catacombs have plenty of good Pokémon—Arons, Digletts, and Swinubs, for instance—but there are also a lot of Ghost Pokémon…and not the friendly sort. I'm fairly certain we'll need to run away from at least one ghost while we're down there, maybe more."

"Will the dolls work on them, too?" When Renata nodded her head, Cyrus felt a bit better.

He was a little surprised that Cynthia's Spiritomb was the only ghost they encountered in the ruins; but that may have had more to do with the time of day than anything else. Ghosts were most active in the dark and those ruins were fairly bright during daytime.

' _But we're about to go underground and Renata quite clearly called these tunnels "catacombs." Not only is this place going to be dark regardless of the time of day; but there are probably plenty of dead things that don't want to be disturbed. Still…a Ghost Pokémon might be a good thing to catch. Golbat has a type advantage against Jet's team, but I can't rely on just him. A ghost would be completely immune._ '

"Ghost Pokémon don't scare you; do they, Cyrus? You went quiet on me, so I wanted to make sure."

"They're just Pokémon," he replied, shaking his head. Some of the souls inside Cynthia's Spiritomb used to be human, but she could still put it away in a Poké Ball and control it in battles. Chances were strong that the only ghosts they'd run into today would be other Pokémon. Human ghosts were less likely. Frankly, he didn't believe in them. "Renata?"

"Yes?"

"What about an Escape Rope? I don't see one in your bag anywhere." If these tunnels were anywhere near as vast as Renata had made them sound, then they ran the risk of getting lost. The prospect of seeing ghosts didn't scare Cyrus, but the thought of wandering aimlessly around the tunnels until he died did.

"We won't need one. Look!" It took a moment for Renata to pull something out of her bright green pea coat, but she held up an orange and yellow Fast Ball. Somebody had glued tiny yellow rhinestones on it to form a big letter L. "One of your friends graciously offered to let us borrow her Abra. Her only request is that we don't battle with it."

' _Wait…who had an Abra, again?_ ' Cyrus wracked his brain, trying to remember every female trainer he'd interacted with in Plumbum City. There was the fat little girl with the Dunsparce, Renata, and—wait. It had to be that scrawny number-cruncher: the one traveling with Isaac. "Lulu?"

"Mmhmm!" Renata put the Abra's ball back into her coat, all smiles. "When we're done, all I have to do is call Lulu's Abra out and she'll teleport us out of the tunnels. Piece of cake!"

Cyrus couldn't help but smile a bit at Renata. She truly had planned this out from start to finish. He was impressed.

Renata held out her hand, eager for Cyrus to take it. "There are hundreds of entrances to the Catacombs all across the city. The closest one is less than a block from here. Ready to go, dear?"

Cyrus took that mitten-covered hand into his own and nodded his head. "Lead the way. I'm following you."

…

The "entrance" Renata mentioned was located in a back alley between a bakery and a pharmacy. It looked like a typical subterranean door: the sort one would expect on a basement or bomb shelter. Judging from the amount of rust on its hinges and how much rotted wood was exposed from its deteriorated paint job, it had clearly seen better days.

"Are you sure this isn't someone's basement?" What if someone saw them, assumed they were up to no good, and contacted the KSP? Renata was Kinzonian, so she'd probably be able to talk her way out of any misunderstanding. Cyrus doubted the same would apply to him.

Renata kept yanking on the door, trying to force it open. The rusted hinges whined like frustrated animals as she continued to tug. "I'm 100% sure. This isn't my first time exploring the catacombs and it certainly won't be the—" Before she could say "last," the door swung wide open and knocked her to the ground.

From the darkness came a stale, musty smell with an occasional whiff of something reminiscent of spoiled meat. For the second time in less than an hour, Cyrus felt his stomach sour. ' _You might as well suck it up now,_ ' he thought, trying to mentally prepare himself. ' _It's only going to smell worse once you're down there.'_

He cautiously peered inside; curious to see how much was visible in plain daylight. It wasn't much: just the first five steps and then a vast, all-encompassing black void. The flashlight didn't help much, either. All he could see were a long, indefinite amount of old stone stairs and some rusty metal rungs haphazardly lodged into the walls.

"You'll definitely want to hold onto those." Renata pulled a bright green scarf out of her bag and quickly tied it over her hair. "The stairs are probably slippery from all the rain and snow we've had this week. Just take it slow and watch your step. Okay, dear?"

She didn't have to tell him twice. Cyrus took one last deep breath of clean air, turned his flashlight up to its maximum brightness, and followed Renata. Less than twenty steps down the passage, the corridor took a sharp right turn. From that angle, Cyrus couldn't make out any ambient daylight. Other than the thing in his hands, it was completely dark. "I don't know if my flashlight has enough lumens to do us much good."

"Lumens?" Renata clearly had no idea what he was talking about. "What are lumens?"

"They're how you measure light output. The brighter the bulb, the more lumens it has." That was basic physics. "When I first bought supplies for my Kinzo trip, I made sure to buy a flashlight good enough for the outdoors: about 85 lumens or so. I don't know what you have, but look at this." He pointed the beam down the stairs. "I still can't see the bottom. Maybe I should have bought the emergency-grade thing that went up to 500."

At the time, he remembered thinking that the guy at the military surplus store was trying to upsell him something that would be overkill. A 500-lumen flashlight was bright enough to temporarily blind somebody! Now he was kind of regretting the fact he picked the weaker, cheaper option.

To make matters worse, he could tell Renata's flashlight was even weaker than his. He wouldn't even trust that thing to give him enough light in a dim corridor. "It's a shame we can't just use one of our Pokémon for this. I know there's an HM that teaches a Pokémon how to glow in the dark…or was it a TM? I can't remember…"

"Are you talking about Flash, dear? I actually have that HM, if you want it."

' _She can't be serious! Does she even realize how rare HMs are!? Most stores don't even sell them anymore!'_ Even if he managed to find a store that sold them, there was no way he'd be able to afford one with his current finances. That thing probably cost more than one semester's worth of tuition! "You're sure you don't want this? HMs aren't exactly cheap or easy to find, Renata. I wouldn't feel right taking it unless—"

"Cyrus, _honey_. I don't need it."

She heard the distress building in his voice, so she stopped walking long enough to turn around and face him. He tried not to shove his flashlight into her face, so he pointed it upward. Beneath the glow, he could see her smiling in his direction. "Remember how I told you my daughter is in the Kinzo League? I want to battle her someday. Flash won't help me win any tournaments. Besides, I didn't buy it. My husband won it in a competition and he didn't use it, either. If you want it, it's yours."

She held it out insistently, practically demanding he take it. A moment ago, Cyrus felt like he'd be taking advantage of Renata if he accepted the gift without informing her of its value. Now he'd feel like a dick if he refused it. He gingerly took the HM into his hands and muttered something about his friend being a crazy woman for wanting to part with something so valuable.

When he shone his flashlight on it, the disc gleamed. It was definitely an HM. It could also be the answer to their prayers, or at least give them a brighter, safer alternative than their shitty flashlights. "I know we have batteries, but I'm going to check and see if—what?! No!"

He couldn't believe it. Eevee couldn't learn the move and neither could Golbat! This was bullshit!

Deflated, angry, and frustrated that he'd gotten excited over a whole lot of nothing, Cyrus shoved the HM into the depths of his bag and grumbled a couple of profanities under his breath. He'd just re-gift this to his mother later. Nichole collected old tech as a hobby and was probably the only person Cyrus knew who would appreciate this useless hunk of junk.

Dammit!


	45. The Wonderful World of Wax

**Author's Note: I am going to go ahead and apologize in advance for the monstrous length of this chapter. I felt for full immersion purposes, I should take my time at each exhibit and paint a vivid portrait for you…but speed it along just fast enough to leave you wanting more!**

 **This is kind of how I felt last November when I spent two weeks in Hong Kong. On the day we visited Victoria Peak, my traveling buddy (my inspiration for Cynthia, actually!) suggested we spend part of the afternoon at Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum. I didn't know who some of the Chinese celebrities were, but they had plenty of people I recognized: like Bruce Lee, Audrey Hepburn, and Queen Elizabeth II. I had a wonderful time—and it's uncanny just how lifelike those figures truly are!**

 **The museum ended up being a fun and unique way for me to introduce you to the rest of the Kinzo League's Gym Leaders as well as some of their other key historical figures: mostly some old tsars, but also the current Kinzonian government's key players.**

 **I'm aware that it's a lot of names and faces all in one chapter. If it's too much to remember, don't worry about it! Every single one of those Gym Leaders will have their own arc further down the line. You'll have plenty of opportunities to get to know them later. And who knows? You might find out more about some of these old historic figures in later Supplemental Chapters!**

…

Gloves were every bit as big a staple in Campanella's wardrobe as her combat boots and insulated coat. It didn't matter how nice or new they were. She always chopped off the fingertips so she could use her nails to pop open soda cans, type at a computer keyboard, or scratch the occasional itch…which was what she seemed to be doing right now.

"Ya reckon it's somethin' I said? That boy's been awful prickly with me since we left the last town."

Cynthia took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds, not wanting to huff it out and give her friend the wrong impression. "It's not you." Not entirely, anyway. "A couple of days ago, Cyrus told me he sometimes feels like we volunteer him for stuff without asking first. I'm trying to give him a little more space."

By now, she knew her partner was a bit of an odd Psyduck. Cyrus had more than a few quirks, but he was also a very self-aware person and very good about speaking his mind when something bothered him. Respect was a two-way street, and Cyrus hadn't felt respected. Maybe he'd notice that Cynthia was really trying and they'd find a new normal soon. Things already felt less awkward than they did at the art museum, so her hopes were pretty high.

"I think he wants a break from everyone, not just us. Being cooped up in a hospital room for a few days is no one's idea of a fun time."

Campanella stuffed her hands into her pockets and leaned back, her broad shoulders touching one of the walls. "I dunno. Myrtle's crazy ass might find it fun. I swear she bothers her GP at least twice a month, always insistin' somethin's wrong."

"She's a hypochondriac? I didn't know that. I guess I don't know much about her aside from her work history."

Cynthia knew that Myrtle used to teach at Canalave University, just like Professor Rowan and her grandmother. She also knew that Myrtle had been Kinzo's resident Pokémon professor for over twenty years. Other than that, all Cynthia knew was that Myrtle was divorced, had a fully grown daughter who never called home, and struggled with a drinking problem.

It sounded like Professor Sycamore had some additional dirt on her, but he didn't delve too deeply into it over the phone. All he said was that Myrtle had a reputation among the international academics and didn't get along with his predecessor.

"You wanted to invite other people, right?"

"Just Lulu, really." Cynthia didn't know the Beridze siblings well enough to feel comfortable inviting them, and Cyrus was planning to spend the whole day with Renata. That was a shame. Renata probably would have been a good person to tour the museum with. "I'd invite Eric and Isaac, but I'm pretty sure Isaac would misinterpret it was a date."

She and Isaac were in an awkward place right now. If Cynthia so much as said hello to him, Isaac would nervously laugh and start looking around the room for older girls closer to his age. What happened at the Riviera clearly embarrassed him, which was a shame. Cynthia liked Isaac and still wanted to be friends. The only problem was she suspected Eric would tease him for weeks, maybe even months.

That was why she really only wanted to extend the invite to Lulu. Out of the group, she knew Lulu the least well but was eager to find out more about her. It wouldn't exactly be hard to find her, either.

Lulu had a very distinct style: oversized flannel shirts, tight black skinny jeans, and basketball shoes. Sometimes she'd add an ugly pullover with a cartoon Koffing on it. But no matter what, she always wore her limp brown hair parted down the middle and all the way down to her bony butt. It wasn't a nice thing to think, but Cynthia kind of felt like she looked like a human Feebas.

Despite the fact everyone else was dumping their food waste in the trash and making an effort to tidy up the dining area; Lulu's entire table was covered in notebooks, spreadsheets, and books. She had a small laptop with the Koffing logo set up precariously close to a cup of coffee and was using a nearby chair to prop up her skinny bird legs.

"Lulu! Hey!" Cynthia hurried over, trying her best to contain her excitement.

Lulu glanced up from her laptop, bright yellow mug still in hand. Up close, Cynthia realized that wasn't one of the communal mugs but a custom one. **I might look like I'm listening,** the mug said, **but I'm mentally calculating your life expectancy.**

"Ah. Cynthia. Good morning." Lulu's tone was droll and deadpan as ever. "Did you sleep better last night?"

" _Muuuuch_ better. I slept like a rock!" In fact, last night was the first good night's sleep she'd had since they came to Kalium City. There were no bad dreams, no hyperactive Eevees, and no late evening regrets. She and Cyrus had gone to bed at a decent hour and dozed off in front of another Kinzonian Heritage Channel documentary. "What are you working on? I'm guessing it's a battle strategy for Eric?"

The scrawny brunette hummed a tired-sounding _mmhmm_ under her breath and took a big, unladylike gulp of her caffeinated black sludge. "Would you believe this is strategy number eleven? There's only so much I can do with what Eric has. His Pokémon are godawful."

Right behind her, Cynthia heard a quick snort from Campanella. "That's not very nice."

"Neither is Eric," Lulu replied flatly, shutting the top of her computer. "He told me what I'm doing is a waste of time, even though I'm doing this to help him. He's trying to beat a Fighting Type expert with nothing but a Skitty and a Zigzagoon. Don't get me wrong. It can be done, but you can only help a person so many times before you realize they're going to suck no matter what you do. I know it's only morning, but Eric's already worn on my last nerve today."

' _Those are some very complex spreadsheets! Just how long has she been going at this?_ '

"Ahem. Sorry for my outburst." What outburst? Lulu was so calm that an outsider would probably think the two girls were talking about the weather! "I'm just a little crabby because I haven't finished my first cup of coffee yet. Can I help you with something?"

"No, I don't need anything. I have some good news I wanted to pass on, though." Cynthia didn't even try to hide her smile as she leaned down to whisper something in Lulu's ear. "Cyrus is out of the hospital. He probably won't be up for visitors anytime soon, but he's gonna be okay. Can you tell Isaac and Eric?"

Lulu's eyes had big dark bags beneath them: a sign that she'd probably been a Noctowl last evening and stayed up. Despite how tired she looked, that little bit of news seemed to perk her up…rather, as much as she ever perked up. It was so tiny that Cynthia barely noticed it, but the older girl's lips curled into a small smile. "Sure. I'll spread the word. I'm glad to hear Cyrus is alright. I was worried about him."

"Yeah. Me too." Going back and forth from the hospital had been Cynthia's new routine for a while. She really only punctuated it with errands and busy work, just to keep herself active. If she stayed still for too long, all her fears and doubts started coming back. "But other than that, not much is going on."

"Thanks for telling me." Thinking that the conversation was over, Lulu reached for the top of her computer and lifted the cover so she could get back to work. There was just one problem: Cynthia wasn't done. "Oh. You're still here. Was there something else?"

"I'm going with Campanella to the wax museum. Do you want to come with us? I'm sure you could use a break from all that paperwork."

"You're sweet; but it's a Wonderful World of Wax, right?" When Campanella nodded her head, Lulu sighed. "I figured. They're a chain and have locations in multiple regions. I went to the big one near International Pokémon League Headquarters before. It was supposed to be state of the art, but it was honestly kind of boring."

"…really?" Cynthia's excitement was starting to fizzle. Campanella had made the museum sound like a wonderland of movie stars, old tsars, and perfect wax doubles of the Kinzo League. She'd been all hyped up for the trip, but Lulu's lack of enthusiasm was making her second guess her zeal. "I'm guessing the statues don't look too lifelike?"

"Oh, they do. It's just that the one I went to was nothing but wax statues of old League Champions, retired Gym Leaders, and dull stuff like that—but don't let me curb your enthusiasm. You might find it fun. I'm not really a good person to ask because I find _this_ fun." Lulu held up a huge wad of papers, all of which contained so many numbers and formulas that Cynthia's head felt like it was spinning. "I can ask Isaac if he wants to go, and if that's—"

Campanella put a big hand on Cynthia's shoulder so she could pull her along. "Fuck it. Let's just go by ourselves. Have fun crunchin' numbers, kid."

…

"There's the best route to the Riviera. And that big building is a four-story Farmers Market! You can buy all kinds of things in there: baked goods, homemade sweets, fresh seafood, and even cheap clothing. Lots of people like to buy head scarves because they make great souvenirs…"

Cynthia rarely used taxis. The only time she ended up relying quite heavily on them was during her Unova journey. Castelia City was so large that she couldn't make sense of their bus schedule, let alone their mass transit maps. Some brave souls walked through the sewers to avoid traffic, but that was just nasty!

In retrospect, the taxis weren't much better. Castelia's taxi drivers never kept their cars clean. Each time Cynthia rode in one, the smell was just a variant of the same rancid fragrance: greasy street food, cigarette smoke, body odor, cheap cologne, and a whiff (sometimes faint, sometimes not) of human vomit.

Kalium City's taxis were older cars, but well maintained and clean. This one smelled faintly like a cheap air freshener: the blue kind that fragrance companies marketed as "ocean" despite smelling like nothing of the sort. Just to see if she was right, Cynthia tried to find an air freshener hidden beneath all the beads and charms the driver wrapped around her rear view mirror. Sure enough, there was a baby blue cardboard tree.

"Is this your first time going to the wax museum?"

Cynthia stopped looking out the window and nodded her head. Maybe the silence was making the driver nervous. "Uh huh, but Campanella's been before. She said I can't truly say I've experienced your city until I've walked up the Zykova Stairs, visited the Riviera, and explored that museum."

"Well, those are certainly our three most popular attractions! I strongly recommend spending an afternoon exploring all of Katarina Square, not just the stairs—but that's just me. It all depends on what sort of things you come to Kalium _for,_ you know? Take you two, for example. What brought you here, comrades?"

Cynthia felt she could be honest with the driver, at least to an extent. "We came here to challenge your Gym Leader, but a friend of ours was injured on the way over here. The hospital only released him a couple of days ago, so Campanella's been suggesting stuff for us to do until he feels well enough to face Jet. We even visited a modern art museum yesterday!"

Campanella faked a cough and muttered something about 20th century art and modern art being two very different things. A little elbow to the ribs got her to quit.

"Ah, I see. And your friend's not with you because…?"

"He wanted to spend the day with another friend." That and Cyrus thought wax statues were creepy, but this stranger didn't need to know everything about him. "So we decided to take a girl trip."

"Well, I hope you have a fun time. This is your stop, actually! Use that bridge to walk across the street. The wax museum will be the building with the blue roof."

"Thanks!" Cynthia reached in her bag for some cash to pay the driver, but Campanella beat her to it. When she wasn't looking, Cynthia slipped a little extra in to tip the driver. "And I'll definitely explore more than just the stairs when I go to Katarina Square. Thanks for all your suggestions!"

"No problem! Enjoy the museum—and say hello to the tsars for me! Their statues are on the staircase!"

After the driver took off, Campanella begin fishing around in her pocket for a pack of cigarettes. "You mind if I light up before we cross that bridge?"

"Go ahead. We're outside, so it's not like you're gonna hotbox me." She'd just made sure to stand upwind of Campanella's smoke. Normal cigarettes smelled awful enough; but Campanella's unfiltered ones were a special brand of nasty. "You don't think I overshared in the car, do you? I know some parts of Kinzo aren't fond of foreigners."

"Kid, you're fine. Kalium's not as dangerous as it was in the '70s. These days, the locals are more afraid of offending you than the other way around. They want your sweet, sweet tourist money."

"But my country—"

"Caused problems for _northern_ Kinzo. Southern Kinzo's personal beef is with the Dóxans and Kalosians. So even though some folks might not like Sinnohan people, no one's gonna go out of their way to hurt ya. You're fine here, and you'll be fine in Hydrargyrum City too."

Okay. That made her feel a little less paranoid. They wouldn't be going to northern Kinzo until they had to challenge the Ferrum Town Gym Leader. Based on what Renata had already told her about that town, Cynthia wasn't looking forward to going there.

After Campanella finished her cigarette, she stomped it out. Considering how many other cigarette butts were on the street, Cynthia supposed littering wasn't too big of a deal in this city. "Did I ever tell you that the wax museum was one of the first things I did when I moved to Kinzo?"

"No! This is my first time hearing this!"

When Campanella grinned, it was like her whole body did it: not just her mouth. Every inch of her tall, muscular physique seemed to radiate joy, nostalgia, or whatever else she was feeling. "When Myrtle first hired me, she wanted to do something special together. I told her I didn't know the country all that well, so I was game for whatever. We did a three-day trip to Kalium and mostly did a lot of sightseeing. Our first stop was the wax museum.

"Like you, I wasn't fully sold on the idea. The whole way there, I was like, _what the hell, Myrtle? I thought you hired me to help you find rare Pokémon, not fuck around in tourist traps._ You wanna know why she took me there? There's a statue of her in the museum. It's been there since she first became the regional professor."

That was a tad narcissistic, but Cynthia could barely contain her laughter. "You two are really close, aren't you?"

Campanella stopped walking and rested her muscular arms against the edges of the street bridge. Below her, taxis and other cars zipped along a major highway. "Close doesn't even begin to cover it. Myrtle's the first person in a very long time who saw something worthwhile in me. She pulled a lot of strings with my parole board to get me here, and I nearly fucked it up.

"I tried to smuggle my Raichu past Kinzonian Customs because I couldn't stand the thought of leaving her in quarantine for two months. Myrtle nearly shat herself when she found out. After giving me a long talking to—I could've been sentenced to 5 years in a gulag for that!—she paid the fine and got the government to drop the charges. Sure, Myrtle chewed my ass out for being a dumbass, but that's when I realized she wasn't just using me. She truly did have my back. She's the best damn boss I've ever had, kid. I'd take a bullet for her if I had to."

Ever since she first met Campanella, Cynthia had wondered how long she had worked for Professor Myrtle or why those two were so close. This gave her a new perspective. No wonder Campanella was so loyal. "That's very noble of you, Campanella. I just hope it never comes to that!"

"Ha ha ha!" Campanella laughed and ruffled Cynthia's hair until her bangs went everywhere. "I hope it won't, too! C'mon, kiddo. Let's go spend the day making dumb faces at famous Kinzonians."

…

Among the dull monochrome buildings, Cynthia spotted a cute house-like structure with a blue roof. She could make out the silhouette of a statue outside, but would need to enter the courtyard to see who it was. She almost expected the property to be fenced up to deter people from entering without permission, but it was wide open and teeming with tourists.

Some fat old Hoennese ladies in matching pink parkas excitedly talked to each other and tried their best not to stray too far from their tour guide. A group of schoolchildren were striking poses with toy Poké Balls, pretending to challenge each other. Several couples were taking their sweet time going around the garden and appreciating the various early springtime plants.

A snow-covered sign was near the front entrance. Cynthia wiped it off so she could read it. **Welcome to the Wonderful World of Wax – Kalium City. Admission is free, courtesy of the Commisariat of Visual and Performing Arts. Donations are not required but encouraged. Feel free to take pictures and pose with the statues, but please do not damage any of the statues kept indoors.**

Now that she was inside the premises, she could get a better look at the only statue kept outside. It wasn't in very good condition and several people were making rude gestures at it. Whoever that person was, she figured he wasn't very popular.

The statue was of a handsomely dressed man with chestnut hair, a handlebar mustache, and a well groomed beard. His eyes were a striking shade of pale blue: like the sky itself. With his dark blue military jacket, gold epaulettes, and glittering war medals; he would have looked positively dashing if half his head wasn't covered in Starly poop. The bright sun and harbor air had bleached his skin, leaving him spotty and obviously artificial.

"Do you know who that is?"

The woman who asked that question sounded familiar, but it wasn't Campanella. When Cynthia turned around, she saw the pretty blonde she'd run into at the Riviera: the one with the weird Crawdaunt and the rhinestone-covered wetsuit. She'd changed into something a bit more pedestrian today (a pair of pink and blue diamond-print leggings, baby blue ski boots, and a pastel pink parka with blue fur trim); but that was definitely Kai: the Gym Leader for the next town. And judging from the sheer number of people following her with cameras, today's visit wasn't exactly a secret.

"No," Cynthia told her. "Who is he?"

Kai giggled and draped one arm around Cynthia's shoulders and another around Campanella's. Up close, she smelled like some kind of fruity body spray: the sort that tween girls bought in bath stores and pretended was perfume. "That's Valentin II: Kinzo's last tsar."

The word _tsar_ came out like an angry hiss. Although Kai tried to maintain a friendly exterior, it was clear she felt a lot of hatred for this man. Even Campanella was picking up on it and thought it best to keep her mouth shut.

"He was a weak-willed man who could be easily manipulated. When he was young, it was his uncle. Once he married, it was his wife and her pet priest. The rest of the continent was starting to modernize, but not here. Valentin wanted to cling to the old ways, even if that meant starving his people and sending them off to fight pointless wars in Kalos, Sinnoh, and Dóxa.

"Tsars are supposed to be little fathers to their people, but this one treated us like we were his enemies. He locked himself in his favorite palace and refused to come out. When people approached the gates to talk to him, his guards opened fire. When Premier Vasiliev blew this bastard's brains out, he did us all a favor."

Cynthia shuddered at that last comment. She'd read enough history books to know who Valentin II was; but the only memorable thing about him was his execution. The Kinzonian Red Army kept him as a political prisoner for a few years. When the imperial family were no longer useful to their captors; they were led to the cellar and shot to death. Their bodies were then dumped somewhere in the woods…or down a well. She couldn't remember. She just remembered several girls claimed to be one of the daughters.

Her eyes turned away from the statue and focused on Kai: trying her best to read the Gym Leader's body language. Kai was too young for this to have personally affected her, but her parents had probably suffered under imperial rule and instilled that loathing in her. It sounded terrible: like a nightmare that could only be escaped through starvation, a factory fire, or suicide. "Kai…"

"Communism is the best thing that could have happened to this country," Kai grumbled. She held out one of her hands expectantly, wanting one of Campanella's cigarettes. "Now we have universal healthcare, public housing, free education, and one of the lowest crime rates in the world. Everyone works hard for Mother Kinzo. In turn, Mother Kinzo provides our every need. Doesn't that sound so much better than starving to death or getting blown up in a factory?"

"It does, but—"

"KAI! KAI! KAAAAAAAAAI! OVER HERE, BEAUTIFUL! LET ME GET A PICTURE WITH YOU!"

Kai rolled her eyes and turned around to face the boys. With every insipid demand from her adoring fans, she was losing more of her patience. "Do you mind? I'm trying to give my friends a history lesson! Отвали, мудак, бля!"

 _'Wait. We're friends now_?' At least the boys got the message and left. They grumbled the entire way into the building.

"What rude people!" Kai huffed, puffing up her cheeks like a Patrat. "I wanted to look at the statues; not get treated like one!" She lit the cigarette and placed it to her bright pink lips. "Sorry about that, uh…wait. Crap. I know I chatted with you the other day. What was your name again?"

"Cynthia." And just to show that she was feeling friendly, she held out a hand for Kai to shake. The Gym Leader's hand was warm, but surprisingly rough. Parts of it felt calloused and almost scaly. "And this is Campanella."

As grateful as Cynthia was for the brief history lesson, but Campanella was significantly less enthused. She only shook Kai's hand to be (somewhat) polite and grunted instead of saying a proper hi or hello. "I remember you," she growled at Kai. "Your gym was a major pain in the ass."

"Ha ha! You think so too, eh? I get that a lot!"

"Kinda remember _you_ bein' a pain in the ass, too."

That only made Kai laugh even louder. "Ahahahahaha! You're too funny! So…" She batted her eyelashes and kept a playful rosiness in her cheeks. "What were you about to say, Cynthia?"

"I don't even remember," Cynthia lied. Before that tourist cut her off, she'd come dangerously close to telling Kai she didn't view modern-day Kinzo as a utopia. The fact they still had a secret police and a curfew scared her a bit. Getting interrupted was probably for the best, though. The last thing she wanted was to offend Kai by saying something potentially foolish. "But I have a question. If Valentin II is such a hated figure here, then why is there a statue of him?"

"Y'know…" Campanella scratched her jaw a bit. "I was wond'rin' that myself!"

"Well, wonder no more! I'll tell you why he's here!" Kai winked at the two foreigners, returning to her bubbly old self. "And I'm sorry I got super serious there for a moment. I just have a lot of feelings about my country! So, um…you know this wax museum is part of a chain, right?"

Yes. They knew. Lulu had told them in the Trainers Lodge.

"Every location contains 100 statues of that region's most famous people. For us, many of those people are tsars. The figures were made in Kalos and shipped directly to the Commissariat of Visual Art for final review. When the commissar saw a figure of Valentin II among the others, she thought it was a mistake and threw him out with the trash."

Kai twisted her body around the statue. If she wasn't filled with so much obvious loathing, the gesture would have almost seemed seductive. Instead, she looked more like a Seviper strangling a smaller, terrified Pokémon. "While the statue was waiting for the weekly trash pickup, some locals decided to take pictures with it. It was a free for all. They photographed themselves doing all kinds of nasty things to the tsar and told their friends where to find him. I even have a picture of my dad pissing on his shoes!"

Disgusting as that was, Cynthia could understand why Kai's father did it. If she'd been a disgruntled member of Kinzo's working class; she would have wanted to abuse the tsar's statue, too. "So, he became such a tourist draw that the commissariat decided to keep him?"

"Exactly! He even goes in for routine maintenance so he can continue to be a free interactive exhibit. Whenever the tsar's been vandalized beyond recognition, he goes in for repairs and the frenzy begins anew. It's classic Kalium humor!"

Cynthia wasn't entirely sure how she felt about this. What Kai called "Kalium Humor" seemed to be equal parts morbid and absurd: the sort of not-quite-right, mean-spirited jokes you only laughed at nervously because you weren't sure who else was listening. As much as she wanted to say that desecrating a statue was in bad taste, a part of her wanted to join in on the fun.

At least Campanella knew where she stood. She snorted out a laugh and shook her head in disbelief. "Well, damn! I knew trashin' this statue was a local tradition. I didn't know any of that other stuff!"

"I bet there's a lot you don't know," Kai replied, keeping her arms folded in an almost defensive posture. Her pink eyes sparkled, but not with mischief or humor. There was something else in there: something darker. "But you aren't expected to know them because you don't live here.

"See, when your journey ends, you'll just pack your things and go back to Johto…Kanto… _wherever_ you're from. Kinzo will be nothing but another fun memory for you: just another box to check off your long list of regions to explore. But that's okay. That's simply how imperialism works and something far greater than this country is calling the shots now."

As clearly heartfelt as Kai's words were, Cynthia didn't agree with her. "I'm not that kind of tourist," she found herself saying with a surprisingly firm tone. "And your home is not an amusement park."

That comment seemed to throw Kai off. She blinked her magenta eyes several times, as if that would make it easier to understand the words coming from the teenager's mouth. "Actually, mine is! My gym's a water park."

"That's not what I meant!" She could feel her face turning hot. "Kinzo might not be my home, but I want to respect and understand it while I'm here. I've only visited two cities so far, but I've seen enough to know that your country deserves better than to be treated like just another tourist trap."

Kai's smile came back, this time as a playful and slightly wicked smirk. "Well, aren't _you_ a rare treat! You're interested in Kinzo that much?"

"Yes, Kai. I am."

She wasn't sure why Kai laughed, but she didn't like it. "Alright, Cynthia. I'll tone down the sarcasm. If you're that interested in getting to know us, how about I give you the grand tour? I'll tell you all the fun stuff we don't want the fly-by tourists to know about."

Cynthia heard Campanella make a noise behind her, but she chose to ignore it. She was too busy trying to figure out if she was opening herself up for some other weird joke. "You're serious?"

"As a heart attack! You should have seen the look on your face when I started talking about the tsar! I thought your eyes were going to fall out of your head! I can tell you sincerely want to understand my world. So…" She held out her hand. "How about it?"

Not only did Cynthia take that hand, but she gave the statue's shin a quick kick in solidarity.

…

"Okay, so the ground floor is going to be dedicated mostly to the big name current celebrities. Unless you watch a lot of our drama programs or keep up to date with ES tournaments, the only thing on this floor of any real interest to you would be the Kinzo League."

"Um…Kai?" Cynthia gently nudged the Gym Leader, hoping to get her attention. "I'm sorry if this is a silly question, but does ES stand for Elemental Specialist?"

"Yes, it does. You need to be a certified ES to be considered for a Gym Leader or Elite Four position. The Kinzo League holds routine tournaments every few months to determine ranking. If a member of the Kinzo League retires, dies, or resigns; the highest ranking ES fills the vacancy within 48 hours. That way, trainers hoping to challenge a gym or the League Champion won't have to wait for the Kinzo League to go over the qualified candidates and vote. They'll already know who to promote."

Cynthia was nodding along because this was starting to sound familiar. "And some ES trainers are so popular that they have cafés, right? I went to one of those a few days ago." Café Khismatullina: home of super-bitter black coffee and the best blini in Kalium City. "It was for an Ice ES who used to live here."

"Oh, those cafés are quite common. My hometown's a big ES hub. It has tons of those cafés. I even have a couple…but an Ice ES from Kalium City? Hm…" Kai appeared to be in deep thought, wracking her brain for a familiar name or face. "I _think_ I know who you're talking about, but the only person I can think of who matches that description died a long time ago. Was she a dark-haired girl in a baby blue parka, by chance?"

Cynthia nodded her head very slowly. "Yes. Her name was Emiliya Khismatullina. When you and Jet were trying to become Gym Leaders, she was the other contender. The café owner told me."

"Oh _yeah_! That's who I thought you were talking about!" Kai stretched and took a moment to put her hands behind her back. Something popped. "You're dragging me down memory lane, kiddo! I've been running the Hydrargyrum Gym since I was twelve. Since then, I've beaten a ton of ES trainers.

"I'm honestly surprised to hear Emiliya still has a fan base, not to mention an open café! Most café owners switch themes as soon as their favorite ES start losing tournaments. But let me set the record straight with something: no one from Kalium City was ever a challenge for me. Out of the three of us, I was the obvious first choice. Jet and Emiliya were tied for second."

What the hell? Cynthia never brought up the ranking! All she wanted to know was whether or not Emiliya had a statue! She turned to look at Campanella, but her friend seemed to be more interested in provoking a boy who had been stalking Kai since they first went inside. Each time he got too close; Campanella stomped toward him, flexed one of her arms, and gave him a big creepy grin. He finally backed off.

Pretty sure that she'd accidentally ruffled Kai's feathers, Cynthia decided to appease her a bit with some mild praise. "You must be a pretty tough Gym Leader." There. That would work, right? "I guess you'd have to be, considering they gave you the Hydrargyrum Gym."

It worked. Kai beamed and playfully swatted at the air. "Oh, do stop. Don't think I'll go easy on you when we battle, just because you buttered me up! Did you want to know if Emiliya has a statue? Is that it?" Cynthia nodded. "Sorry, kid. They really only keep ES statues for the current Top 10 and…you know…you kind of have to be _alive_ to be ranked. Did you still want to look? I'll be happy to tell you about the other trainers if you do."

That was a bit of a letdown, but she wasn't exactly surprised. "It's okay. We can skip that exhibit. I probably wouldn't recognize any of the others." During her Unova journey, she'd traveled with a Kinzonian boy who only used Electric types. Somehow, she doubted he'd be listed in Kinzo's Top 10. It didn't even seem worth it to check.

"I don't know any of 'em," Campanella grunted. "And if I'm bein' honest, Kai; I'll probably only recognize the first five Gym Leaders."

Something about that seemed to tickle Kai's funny bone. Even though she covered her mouth with one of her hands, her laugh was so loud that some of the other tourists turned their heads and stopped to stare. "Aww! Did someone get stuck at Apollo?"

Campanella grit her teeth so tightly that Cynthia heard the noise. "Now, listen here—"

"Whoaaaaa, whoa! Calm down, comrade! There's no need to be embarrassed! Plenty of people have a hard time with the Cuprum City Gym. It's perfectly normal to get stuck there!"

Worried that her poor friend was going to blow a gasket, Cynthia tried her best to calm Campanella down. "Remember how many people couldn't make it past Simon, Campanella? I bet all the Kinzo gyms are just as challenging."

"Well…" Kai shrugged her narrow shoulders. "Most of them are. Until you get to the final two, the odd-numbered Gym Leaders tend to be tougher than the even-numbered ones. Don't get me wrong. Jet, George, and Belladonna are very fierce opponents; but they aren't as talented as Simon, Apollo, and myself."

"What about the last two?" It wasn't lost on Campanella or Cynthia that Kai didn't mention them.

"Oh, Adrian and Leonid? They're in a league of their own. They're wicked strong, not to mention close friends with our Champion!" And judging from the sheer amount of enthusiasm in Kai's voice, she was very clearly a fan of their work. "If either of them wanted a spot in the Elite Four, all they'd have to do is ask…but they won't.

"They want to continue running their gyms for the exact same reason Simon insisted on running the Plumbum Gym. Gym Leaders don't make as much money as the Elite Four, but the income's more stable. Face it: most trainers never get far enough along in their journeys to confront the very best the league has to offer. Most get stuck on a dropout gym—like mine or Simon's—and give up.

"Adrian and Leonid have a little daughter to think about. Kids aren't cheap, especially when you insist on sending them to the most expensive kindergarten in Aurum City. But I'm holding us up, aren't I? Let's go look at everyone!"

Kai took both tourists by a hand and hurried toward the west wing at a breakneck pace. The Pokémon Gym music began to play: something that was consistent across all regions and played in every gym. The instruments changed and some took some creative liberties with the tune, but Cynthia recognized it immediately.

 _'Dum da da dum, da da duuuuum…da dum! Dum dum DUM da dum! Duuuuum, da da—'_

"I know you've both already met Simon, but take a look!"

Haughty, smug, and proud: those three words instantly popped into Cynthia's head when she saw Simon's statue. She recognized him immediately: from his celestial print tuxedo jacket and tinted monocle all the way to the dimple his cheek made when he sneered. He'd made that exact same expression right before he told his Wobbuffet to use Destiny Bond. The double's mustache even curled the exact same way.

"This is incredible. They look exactly alike!" Cynthia reached out to touch Simon's sleeve, but paused before she actually did it. She gave Campanella a quick look first, just to make sure it was okay. Once the redhead gave her a nod of encouragement, she touched the fabric. It felt the same as the real one.

"Okay, kiddo. Strike a pose!" Campanella whipped out her camera and gave Cynthia a big, cheesy grin. This was what she came to the museum for: not a lecture from somebody she'd already battled. "Do whatever comes natural."

Cynthia decided that for this photo, she'd shake Simon's hand. The only difference between the two was the dummy's hand was lifeless and at room temperature. The real Simon had a warm palm with ice-cold fingers. "This is so cool, Campanella! I don't even think a Ditto could be this convincing!"

"Ha ha! I told ya, didn't I?" Campanella held out her camera, making it clear she wanted to strike some goofy poses too. Cynthia offered to snap a few photos, just to keep things fair. With every picture she took, she could tell her friend felt a little better. "Did ya notice his plaque? Each statue has a little bio that tells you more about the person."

"It does? I didn't notice that!" Simon's plaque was near his feet. The font was small and a little hard to make out. "…crap. It's not in international. I can't read it!"

"I can! Step aside, ladies!" When Kai made that comment, Cynthia heard Campanella mutter a quick profanity and something about hoping they'd seen the last of her.

The Gym Leader crouched down, glossed over the plaque, and cleared her throat. "It's just telling you that Simon comes from a long line of mediums and clairvoyants. In fact, Ermengarde the Mad—one of our craziest tsarinas—granted a dukedom to one of Simon's ancestors because his occult knowledge helped her summon a Pokémon that killed everything it touched. Other than that, it just says Simon donates some of his gym's earnings to Sweetmetal Academy and the Ædranos Ruins. You know: the boring stuff."

It wasn't lost on Cynthia that Kai's smile was turning a tad wicked again: just as it had when she talked about what the locals did to Tsar Valentin IIe.

"Do you want to hear more? There's nothing else written on that plaque, but I've got some rather juicy dirt on all the other members of the Kinzo League."

"Oooooh!" That squeal of excitement didn't come from Cynthia—this sort of gossip didn't interest her—but Campanella was apparently a sucker for this sort of thing. At long last, Kai had found something to snag her attention. Both of Campanella's hands were clenched into excited fists, which she excitedly wiggled in front of her chest. She crouched so she could make eye contact with Kai and cackled. "I can't begin to tell you how badly I wanted to punch that smug fucker when I fought 'im! Spill the beans, girl! I'm all ears!"

Eager and willing to throw some shade at her comrades, Kai cleared her throat and gestured for both women to come closer so she could whisper. "Morozov isn't his real last name. Simon legally changed it because his dad did something so incredibly fucked up that he's serving a life sentence in Tantalum Town—but that's enough for Simon, right? Let's move on to big, dumb, beautiful Jet!"

' _Wait! I wanted to know more about Simon's dad! What did he do?! What—_ '

"Ha haaaaaaaaaaa!" Campanella's laugh was so loud that a group of schoolchildren turned around to see what was so funny. When the teacher saw her, he encouraged the kids to hurry to the next exhibit and not make eye contact. "You pretty much summed up my thoughts about Lord God King Fuckboy!"

Cynthia was about ready to slap her hand over her face so no one could see how red her cheeks were. It was one thing when Campanella called Jet a fuckboy in private. Calling him that in front of one of his peers was another thing entirely. But as much as Jet got on her nerves, she did have to admit he was very good-looking. The same was true for his statue.

Like the real Jet Melkadze, the statue was handsomely Herculean with a body that would put an ancient god to shame. He looked quite striking in his brown leather gloves and rust-colored track suit. With his jacket open, every muscle could be seen beneath the thin white cotton undershirt: complete with some impressively realistic black chest hair.

But as charming as that dark-eyed bearded bastard looked, it wasn't enough to make up for his lackluster personality. "I'm not a Jet fan," Cynthia told Kai. "He nearly let a friend of mine bleed to death and he was a creep to Campanella."

"Oh?" Kai's nose wrinkled a bit at that. "What exactly did he do?"

"What _didn't_ he do?" Campanella spat, rolling her eyes. "Y'know a Metro train got bombed a few days ago, right?"

"How could I not know? It was all over the news. Even Hydrargyrum City beefed up security, just to be on the safe side!"

"Well…Cynthia an' I were on that train. Not only did Jet take for-fuckin'-ever to arrive, but he kept missin' the exit for the hospital. The other kid in our party nearly died, all 'cause the dumbass couldn't keep 'is eyes on the goddamn road."

Everything Campanella said was true, and she'd done a rather good job of describing everything. There wasn't much point in elaborating, save for one other tidbit Kai needed to know. "All he wanted to do was make small talk with me. And the way he kept calling me 'pretty girl' was so gross, especially after Campanella told me Jet flirted with her!"

"He did _what_?" More than Kai's nose wrinkled up that time. Talking about the bombing had merited her sympathy, as well as relief that Jet's negligence hadn't accidentally killed Cynthia's friend. However, as soon as the two women started talking about Jet's flirting, her whole body went rigid…save her hands. She made a weird gesture with her fingers: as if an imaginary neck was there for her to strangle.

Something sparkled. Cynthia thought it was a trick of the light at first, but then she spotted a tiny engagement ring on Kai's right hand. ' _No way. No **freakin'** way! They're a—_'

"Ooooooh, he and I are gonna have _words_ later!" Kai let go of the invisible neck and hurled herself toward the statue, shaking a fist at it. For a moment, Cynthia was afraid she would kick the statue over and knock it into that crowd of schoolchildren, but Kai calmed down before she did that. "Excuse me. Um…do you still want to know more about him?"

Both Cynthia and Campanella made a shared disgusted face and mutually decided they could skip Jet's biography. All Campanella wanted was for Cynthia to snap a photo of her pretending to punch Jet in the crotch.

After leaving Jet's statue, Kai began to hum the Pokémon Gym ditty. She even seemed to gain an extra spring to her step. By the time they made it to her double, she was practically skipping! "Well, here's my statue! They'll need to update my hair because I cut it recently—that's actually why I'm here—but I still think the artists did a fantastic job capturing all my lovely assets! Don't you?"

Like the real Kai, the double had platinum blonde hair with the bottoms dipped in magenta and cobalt blue. The only difference was the wax version had it down to her hips and the real Kai had it to her breasts. The statue sported an eggshell-colored wetsuit covered in pink and blue rhinestones. It snugly fit every curve on her impressive hourglass figure. With her large breasts, wide hips, and slender waist: her figure seemed almost impossible.

All Cynthia could think about were those plastic fashion dolls she used to play with when she was little. Kai looked like a life-sized version of one only with freckles, pink eyes instead of blue, and a little pink scar on the left side of her mouth that made her look like she was smirking even when she wasn't.

Kai struck a few cute poses with her double and encouraged both women to take pictures with her. Campanella only wanted one photo, but Cynthia ended up taking a good number because she got the feeling Kai loved being the center of attention. "Hey, Kai? Do you mind taking a picture of the two of us in front of your statue? Campanella and I work together, so I want to at least get a few with both of us in frame."

When they got back to the Trainers Lodge, Cynthia planned to sort through the best pictures and put them aside for her scrapbook project. She was going to make copies for Campanella, Cyrus, Professor Myrtle, and herself. That way, when the year was over, they could all look back on this as a memento and reminisce about all the fun they had together. She'd made them for past traveling companions and wanted to keep up the tradition.

"Sure! No problem!" As Kai took the pictures, she decided she'd tell them what was on her plaque. "My little biography tells you that I'm the youngest Kinzonian to ever run a gym. That's still true, by the way. I'm 21, but I'm still the baby of the league! Other than that, it just tells you that I'm a certified scuba diver, I sometimes go treasure hunting in old shipwrecks, and I donate half my gym's earnings to various local charities. But I guess that's enough about me. There's more to see: _much_ , much more to see! Like this fellow here! He comes right after me!"

Up to Kai, all the Kinzo Gym Leaders had been relatively young—between the ages of 21 and 35—but this next fellow appeared to be in his 50s to early 60s. He was a regal, somber-looking fellow in dark pants, a button-up shirt, a bolo tie, and a belt with a large gemstone-encrusted pewter buckle. Every last one of his fingers had a ring on it.

Both his well-groomed beard and long hair were the same color as an open flame. Although age had not changed the hue or thickness of his hair, it had certainly weathered his face and softened his formerly muscular body. In his prime, this gentleman was probably built similar to Jet. Now he had a pronounced barrel-like gut and a layer of fat on his thick arms and legs.

"This is George Beauclair: the Ferrum Town Gym Leader," Kai remarked, keeping one hand to her hip. "He's a Dragon enthusiast, not to mention the younger brother of our current Premier."

"Wait. I've heard that name before! Doesn't he work for the Kinzonian Heritage Channel?" It was always good to put a name to a face—or rather, in this case, a voice. She'd been going to sleep to George's low, soothing voice for the past few nights: hearing tales of Rurik the Wrathful and other ancient Kinzonians. His deep tone was wonderfully hypnotic. "I've watched some of their documentaries. George narrates them sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Kai repeated, tilting her head in curiosity. "Honey, he does that every night. That's his other job! George knows eight or nine languages—including some ancient ones nobody speaks anymore. He nearly completed a Ph. D. on ancient western civilizations."

' _Okay. That settles it. Out of every Gym Leader I've heard about in the Kinzo League, he's the one I want to meet the most!_ '

Even though Renata called George's town a "cesspool," Cynthia's mind was beginning to mentally picture what she suspected the Ferrum Town Gym looked like. Maybe it was a history museum! Or perhaps a library of rare and ancient manuscripts? George seemed like the sort of fellow who would set up shop inside a big fancy library filled to the brim with aged scrolls, dusty old tomes, and out of print rarities.

"I'd _love_ to meet him!" She didn't even try to hide her enthusiasm. "My parents are archaeologists and so is my grandmother. She even lectures at Canalave University! I have a feeling she'd really get along with him!"

Judging from the fact Campanella cleared her throat; Cynthia was afraid she may have accidentally overstepped her bounds. Kai had showed off at her statue and talked at great lengths about her own accomplishments. Now a member of her captive audience was showing more curiosity toward the man who came after her.

That wasn't going to end well.

"Your family sounds _lovely._ " Kai's sarcasm was duly noted. "Certainly lovelier than old George, anyway. He's a gloomy old hoarder who never leaves his gym. I don't think he's left it the entire time I've been a Gym Leader! And even if you don't count George's nasty gym, Ferrum Town's a garbage heap in general. Why anyone would want to put a gym in that shithole is beyond me."

She'd practically skipped toward the first three statues and remained playful around George's double. By the time Kai left George and began her trek toward the next statue, she seemed to be stomping. Cynthia opened her mouth to ask Kai if she'd accidentally offended her, but Campanella shook her head before she could say anything.

"Guess what, kid?" Campanella nudged Cynthia. "The next one's where I got stuck." Considering she'd already met two people from Apollo's city, Cynthia was especially curious to see what he looked like.

Apollo turned out to be an older black gentleman with short hair and a mustache thick enough to rival a Stoutland. Initially, Cynthia thought his hair was white. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be a very pale, powdery shade of pink. His dark blue eyes were stern and hidden behind a frameless pair of oval spectacles. Despite the intensity of his gaze, his replica had a big playful grin on his face: like he was in on a joke at your expense and all too eager for you to get to the punchline.

Like George, Apollo was a big man with plenty of bulk to his physique. His choice in garb was more along the lines of traditional safari garb, but what struck Cynthia as strange was that he sported one thing she had yet to see anyone in Kinzo wear: short sleeves. "What kind of crazy person would dress like that in—"

"Believe it or not, Cuprum City is actually quite warm!" Kai explained. "About eight years ago, the government gave Apollo's daughter Daphne permission to build a giant greenhouse around the city. It was such a huge hit with the locals that they've built a botanical garden and Safari Zone within city limits. It's quite nice there. You can even run around in shorts!"

Building a city-sized greenhouse was no simple feat. Cynthia wondered what kind of work Apollo's daughter did that would merit such an endeavor. Whatever she did, she had to be quite a trusted scientist (or architect) to be permitted to do something so ambitious!

"Apollo is kind of like the Kinzo League's fun dad. Sometimes we time our vacation days to match up so a whole bunch of us can play golf together, explore the garden, or just enjoy the artificial weather. He specializes in Fire types, runs the Safari Zone in his spare time, and loves to play practical jokes."

"Yeeeeeeeeeah…" Campanella groaned in displeasure. She was ready to give Apollo her middle finger too. Cynthia could tell. "And I know what his favorite fuckin' joke is. Just when I thought Ambipom an' I were gonna win, that cheeky bastard laughed at me and pulled out a—"

"Ssssssssh! Don't spoil the surprise for Cynthia! She hasn't battled him yet!"

Cynthia was about to tug on Campanella's sleeve and ask her to let her in on the secret, but Kai grabbed Cynthia's wrist and began marching deeper into the exhibit. Campanella didn't even have time to say a word.

"Next is Belladonna Tereschenko: our poisonous prima donna. She's a world renowned opera singer and our most senior Kinzonian Gym Leader. Before Adrian and Leonid came along, Belladonna was eighth in the circuit. Why, she's been the Stibium City Gym Leader longer than I've been alive!"

"Wait. You mean to tell me she's run the same gym for over twenty years?!" Cynthia could hardly believe her ears. "That's almost unheard of!"

Some people worked as Gym Leaders for a very long time, but many of them moved to new postings when better opportunities became available: be that as a spot in the Elite Four or a more lucrative city. Staying in the same place and never wavering meant one of two things: either Belladonna was very passionate about her job or she was too attached to Stibium City to leave it.

Belladonna turned out to be a large, voluptuous woman dressed in an emerald green ballroom gown covered in glittering gems, sequins, and beads. A fan was delicately clasped in her liver-spotted right hand and used to hide part of her proud (and surprisingly aristocratic) face.

Her iron gray hair was neatly pulled up into an elaborate up-do, complete with silk flowers and pearls mixed in with the braids. Although she was obese, Cynthia could still tell that there was a strong chin hidden in that thick neck. She very much looked the part of a reigning queen or tsarina.

Many bouquets of flowers rested at the singer's feet. Initially, Cynthia suspected they were silk props to make the statue look more popular, but these were real—fresh, too! But what drew her in most of all were Belladonna's impossibly dark eyes. They were solid black: as though they were nothing but sclera and two oversized pupils.

"For this next part, we'll unfortunately have to take a slight detour and go upstairs. Don't ask me why the curators decided to do it this way; but they stuck Adrian, Leonid, Oleg, and the Champion upstairs with the important historical figures."

Kai didn't waste any time. As soon as she saw a vacant elevator, she pushed the button and held her foot in the door so it wouldn't close too quickly. Cynthia took her first step toward the elevator, but Campanella firmly grabbed her shoulder to keep her where she was. "I ain't one for elevators, Kai. We'll take the stairs and meet ya up there. A'ight?"

Kai seemed to understand. She gave a knowing nod and shut the elevator.

As soon as the doors closed, Cynthia lightly tapped her friend's hand. "Are you claustrophobic?" she whispered, concerned. Not only did Campanella shake her head and snicker, but she made a yapping gesture with her right hand. "Oooooh. You just wanted to ditch Kai?"

"Can ya blame me? I remembered her bein' a self-absorbed little shit when we battled, but sweet Celebi! She talks _forever_! She don't give ya much time to process things, either; does she? It's just _go go fuckin' go_."

"I can at least cut her a little slack for being proud," Cynthia admitted. "Child Gym Leaders are pretty rare. It's really hard to find one that's younger than fifteen and Kai's been doing this since she was twelve. If I were her, I'd probably have a big ego too."

Initially, Kai's playfulness came across as fun and lighthearted (albeit occasionally in bad taste). Yet the longer the tour went on, the more Cynthia started to feel like something was "off" about her. When Kai teased them or said something nasty about the Gym Leaders she didn't like, there was a weird desperation in her eyes. _I need you to agree with me,_ they seemed to say. _Tell me I'm right. Tell me I'm funny. For heaven's sake, just tell me I'm fun!_

It was kind of sad.

"Alright, kiddo. I see your point. Now come on. Let's go look at the historical figures before we reunite with Kinzo League Barbie."

…

Even the red carpeted staircase was designed to have other statues on it. Various tsars, tsarinas, and other Kinzonian nobility in gorgeous costumes stood there, frozen in time. Men in decadent imperial garb knelt down to kiss the dainty hands of princely women in pretty dresses.

It was a pretty clever way to show the timeline without being too obvious about it, but the amalgamation was truly something peculiar to behold. The time periods were all over the place and yet some of the statues interacted with each other. The ones at the top appeared to be dressed in early 20th Century fashion while those at the bottom were more medieval in nature.

Cynthia let loose a quick noise: something halfway between a laugh and a sigh. Campanella temporarily put her camera down to give her a mildly worried look. "Is somethin' the matter? I thought ya wanted to see the tsars."

"I did, but the plaques are all in Kinzonian." And they'd intentionally ditched the one person in their group who actually knew the language. Cynthia was already having second thoughts about splitting up. "I don't know who anyone is! I'm pretty sure Kai could have told me, too..."

Campanella let loose a quick annoyed huff and tapped her foot. "I reckon she could." Clearly, the thought of reuniting with an unwanted third wheel who demanded to be the center of attention didn't sit well with her…not that Cynthia could blame her. That was why she decided to propose a Kai-free Plan B.

"How do you feel about taking pictures of them?" All that question seemed to do was confuse Campanella. "Before we leave the city, I need to go back to the library and return the books I checked out. Maybe I can take your pictures with me and look everyone up while I'm there."

"Ha haaaaa! I like that idea much better! We'd be stuck with Kai all damn day if you asked her—probably miss curfew, too! You just tell me who you want pictures of. I'll snap what I can."

Cynthia's first choice was a severe, scary-looking fellow with sallow skin and red bags under his exhausted black eyes. His mustache, hair, and long beard were mostly black but streaked with silver. He wore a black fur hat over his hair and sported a lavish golden coat that went all the way to the floor. Inside it was a silvery-white fur lining: Cinccino, possibly.

His hands were covered by black gloves and bejeweled with impressive rings. One, Cynthia recognized from George Beauclair's statue: a rainbow-colored stone with some kind of helix design inside it. A similar, larger stone was at the hilt of the man's cane. If someone tried to take it away, the statue would fall over and tumble down the stairs.

The tsar's face was the scariest bit: dark eyes with sagging lower eyelids, pronounced furrows and frown lines, thick black eyebrows that nearly met together to make a V, a strong aquiline nose, and a scowl so severe that one would think this man viewed you as the most disgusting person on earth and wouldn't hesitate to kill you for so much as sneezing.

At first, Cynthia wondered if this was possibly Rurik the Wrathful, but the costume was too modern for such an ancient figure. Whoever he was, she was estimating he ruled sometime between the 15th and 16th centuries.

The next person to catch her eye was a fat and freakishly tall woman dressed like a male tsar. Her brown hair had a reddish tinge to it and came down to her waist in unruly, serpentine ringlets. She had the same stern mouth, hooked nose, and terrifying gaze as the man in the golden robes…though her eyes weren't black. They were pale blue: like ice. Somehow that made them even more threatening: like there was no place to hide from her.

The tsarina's garments were a rich burgundy color and bejeweled with emeralds and pearls. A crown sat on her thick head, as if to remind the world that a woman could rule with as firm a fist as any man, perhaps even more so. Clutched in her thick, gnarled-looking hands was a black horn with a beautiful gold leaf pattern painted on the sides. At her feet were a crystal ball, a set of tarot cards, and various ominous-looking books.

Only one stair above her was a tall, slender, handsome fellow with curly brown hair and a well-groomed mustache. Unlike the scary old fellow at the bottom of the stairs, this man looked friendly and even a bit playful. His arms were outstretched as if to embrace the person coming toward him. Every brass button on his dark green military-inspired jacket caught the light, leaving him to dazzle like a jewel despite wearing no such finery.

Cynthia had never seen a man that tall. Her chin only came up to his bottom ribs! If she crouched just a little, her face would be right at his elaborate belt buckle: once again something she recognized from George's statue. Either he had a thing for imperial Kinzonian memorabilia or he'd paid a hefty sum for replicas. There was honestly no telling.

Near the top of the stairs was a voluptuous woman with a weak chin, her face permanently paused in mid-laugh. Her hair was light gray and piled high above her thick neck. Despite her age, her neckline plunged to show her very supple, generous bosom: all pushed up from her corset. Her cheeks were plump, rosy, and looked so lifelike that Cynthia half expected them to be warm when she touched them.

Her gown was a marvel to behold: the prettiest one of the whole lot. The fabric was pearly white and finely embroidered with copper-colored thread and lace. Thick copper jewels and amulets dangled from the woman's neck, but it didn't seem to bother her at all. _Oh darling,_ that face seemed to say. _The things we do for beauty!_

Wanting a few funny photos for her scrapbook project, Cynthia decided this tsarina would be the subject of her candid shot. She stood beside her and made the exact same funny face as the statue. Even though she couldn't hear Campanella, she could tell she was laughing from how much the camera was shaking.

"Is she the last one you wanted?" Before Cynthia could answer, Campanella continued. "I'm only askin' 'cause I'm runnin' out of film an y'ain't even seen Myrtle's statue yet."

Okay. That was fair.

…

Most of the tourists on the second floor were very obviously speaking Kinzonian. Cynthia heard a pair of college-aged girls and a tall redheaded guy speaking what sounded like Kalosian, but no one was speaking the international language. Maybe the celebrities on this floor only meant something to the locals.

"Oi. Cynthia! Does this guy look familiar?" The figure Campanella pointed out was a uniformed gentleman with slicked back dark gray hair, a thick mustache, and an olive complexion. There weren't very many wrinkles on his face; but the ones that did exist were quite pronounced: furrows, frown lines, and Murkrow's feet.

Just as Belladonna's eyes had drawn Cynthia in with their darkness, the same was true here. They were a dark charcoal color: only a shade or two lighter than pitch black. Even though she knew the statue's eyes were nothing but colored glass, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were watching her every move.

The statue was in the middle of smoking his pipe, lips curled into an impish smile. That cheeky expression gave him the appearance of someone caught in mid-conversation and clearly amused by what the other person had to say.

' _I **know** I've seen this guy before! I'm just drawing a blank on where!_' It was driving her crazy, too!

Since the statues on this floor were more recent historical figures, chances were high that most of the subjects were still alive. With that in mind, Cynthia approached the statue with caution. The man's right hand held a vintage-looking Poké Ball, so she pulled out her Spiritomb's ball to make the same stance for the picture. After the flash went off, she rubbed her eyes to make the spots go away. "Who is he?"

"Kid?" When Campanella laughed downstairs, it was all fun and games. There was something in her most recent chuckle that made Cynthia feel a bit uneasy. "Try not to shit yourself, but that's the former Premier: the one Kai was talkin' about."

"Whaaaaat?!"

Cynthia's entire body felt like it had been doused with ice water. Now she knew where she'd seen him before. His likeness was on propaganda posters, brochures, and even that creepy mural in the hospital. Sergei Vasiliev had been overthrown and replaced, but his ghost lurked around every corner and there was nowhere to truly hide. Even if she shut her eyes, her ears remained open…

 **"…sometimes we would find a body a few days after someone filed a missing persons report. Other times, we'd find people who were still alive, but too delirious and scared to press charges…"**

 ** _"We were obligated to teach a new language in schools as the primary language instead of our native tongue. Everyone too old to learn the language in school had to attend mandatory classes after work."_**

 **"You want to talk about a man who could yell? _Vasiliev_ could yell."**

"What's wrong with you, Campanella!? Why did you want me to pose with Sergei Vasiliev?"

"Why? Because it's fuckin' funny! That's why!"

Cynthia shot Campanella a dirty look for that. "I think we have conflicting senses of humor. That was _not_ funny." If she'd goofed off with that statue the way she had with the others; her fun day at the museum could have ended in a dark, scary KSP cell.

"Ya wanna see somethin' that is? C'mere an' look at this picture. You look like a goddamn trophy wife."

Cynthia instantly saw why Campanella was all giggles. Dictator or no dictator, it actually was a pretty good shot…and she _did_ look like Vasiliev's arm candy. There she was, cheery and clueless, sporting her best imitation of a debutante smile. She'd made that same face for school picture day year after year. "Okay. I'll admit it's a good shot. I'm just not sure if this is one for the scrapbook. Don't you think it's in bad taste to—"

"Heeeeey. There you two are!" As Kai hurried over, Campanella muttered a quick "dammit" under her breath, as well as a muffled comment about thinking they'd lost her for good. Clearly not. "Are you having fun with Comrade Vasiliev's statue? Just be mindful when you're taking his picture. He's still has a lot of sympathizers in this city."

Oh, thank Arceus. She made the right call by playing it safe! "I'm sorry we took a while, Kai. We wanted to look at the tsars on the staircase." Well, that and Campanella needed a Kai break, but Kai didn't need to know that. "Is that okay?"

"Of course! Why wouldn't it be?" Kai wasn't bothered in the slightest. Instead, she picked up the pace and herded her audience toward the most elaborate display on the floor. Not only did this museum have one Vasiliev statue. It had two. This other one was older, more haggard, and more intimidating than handsome. His face was paused in mid-snarl, shouting silent threats at the six people standing together to oppose him.

As startling as it was to see Vasiliev's face two times in a row, that was nothing compared to the even bigger shock of realizing Cynthia had already met one of his opponents. She was younger-looking and her glasses were different, but the woman in the oversized sweater and black coat was _definitely_ the lady she'd met at the Sunyshore Airport! "Kai, is that—"

"Behold: the Six Heroes of Kinzo!" Kai informed her guests, oblivious that Cynthia had just tried to ask her a question. "And among them; we have our regional Champion, our highest ranking member of the Elite Four, and even two Gym Leaders! Let me introduce you to everyone!"

Cynthia was pulled toward one of the figures, but not the one she recognized. Instead, Kai tried to draw her attention toward a redheaded man so gaunt and sickly that he resembled a corpse. There was no meat on him anywhere. From head to toe, he was nothing but a skeleton hiding in a thin skin coat.

His scarlet red hair was scraped back into a neck-length ponytail and looked soft to the touch, but literally nothing else about him seemed pleasant. Like Vasiliev, his face was contorted into a rage-filled snarl. His claw-like right hand clutched a Poké Ball so tightly that Cynthia could make out every joint and ligament. She was finally starting to understand why this sort of thing gave Cyrus the creeps. That hand looked way too lifelike.

She'd read somewhere that when people died, the whites of their eyes began to turn a grayish color. The process was called algor mortis _._ Despite the fact this man was supposed to be alive, that process already seemed to be taking place. The color in his irises had run over into the sclera, tinting everything slightly with a nasty, muddled bluishness.

Campanella put her hand on the gaunt man's shoulder and groaned. "Nasty lookin' fucker, ain't he? Which one's he?"

"This is Adrian: the Argentum City Gym Leader. He specializes in Dark types and owns an occult tour business."

He certainly looked the part. And if there wasn't someone Cynthia actually _knew_ in the display case, she would have probably pressed Kai for more information. Instead, all she wanted to do was get her attention long enough to—

"And this blonde fellow over here is Leonid: a Ghost specialist and escape room enthusiast. He manages the Aurum City Gym: the last one in the Kinzo circuit."

Leonid seemed to be in much better shape than Adrian: sinewy rather than gaunt. There was something almost Viking-like with his appearance: probably due to the fact he had a neck-length braided beard and shaved the sides of his long hair into a long, wild-looking undercut. He wouldn't look out of place in a metal band and the same could be said for the curvy, tattooed girl passing him a Full Restore.

"Right next to him is Lina: a dual Dark/Ghost ES who serves as an alternate when Adrian's too sick to fight or Leonid goes on vacation. Believe it or not, those three are in a _ménage a trois_. I don't know if your country recognizes marriages between more than two people, but Kinzo does! Isn't that interesting?"

"Is Lina the one in the Elite Four?" Campanella asked, completely dodging Kai's question. From her hurried tone, it was all too obvious she was getting impatient with all the longwinded deviations. She kept checking her watch, worried that they'd be stuck with Kai until closing time and never even get to Myrtle. "Ya mentioned there's an Elite Four member in here."

Kai let loose a loud Mightyena howl of a laugh, but Cynthia didn't catch what she said immediately after that. She was too busy rummaging through her bag for her wallet. She knew she'd spoken with one of these people! She'd simply drawn a blank on the woman's name and her company's name. She did, however, remember the woman owned a tech firm and was visiting extended family in Floaroma Town.

The only other thing she remembered was that the woman said working in Kinzo made her feel "like a Gyarados in a Magikarp pond." That term had been so memorable that it stuck, despite the fact that conversation took place at 3:00 AM and Cynthia blanked on nearly everything else.

Her fingers brushed against a thick piece of paper inside her wallet. When she pulled it out, she spotted the familiar dark gray business card, complete with the big bronze "W" on the back. The front side of the card had the name, photo, and business contact information for the lady she spoke with: Dr. Titania Melaleuca, President & CEO of Wendigo Technologies. Okay. Now she was absolutely certain. "Kai, what about—"

Crap. She wasn't paying attention. She kept going on and on and _on_ about that Lina person!

After what felt like nearly ten minutes, Kai finally stopped and moved to pat another statue on the shoulder: a much older man with a receding hairline and a rather horrific scar on the bare top of his scalp. He was a tad pudgy; complete with a thick neck, a barely protruding chin, and a pair of jowls that would put a Snubbull to shame. "This old guy right here: Oleg Zykova, is—"

"Like the _tsar_ Zykovas?!" Cynthia was so surprised to hear that last name that she accidentally dropped Titania's business card.

Adrian, Leonid, and Lina were probably very fascinating people with interesting backstories and hobbies; but Cynthia was so distracted by the fact that she recognized Titania that she'd only half paid attention to everything Kai had said since they came to this exhibit. Finding out that there was still a living, breathing descendant of the old tsars changed that. Her eyes must have been as big as saucers.

"Ooooooh. That's right. You're a history enthusiast, aren't you? No wonder you wanted to take your time on the staircase!" Kai's pink eyes twinkled with amusement as she gave the statue's back a reassuring pat. "But to answer your question, Cynthia, yes. Oleg is the son and only surviving relative of Valentin II: Kinzo's final tsar."

Cynthia didn't know enough about the imperial family to be considered anything remotely close to an expert, but she watched enough TV to know they met a very violent end. The last tsar had been so unpopular that an angry mob of commoners broke into the winter palace and slaughtered every Zykova they could get their hands on. The only reason the tsar's son survived was because he'd been studying abroad. Years later, several girls claimed to be one of the daughters, but each one was written off as a hoax. The son had even sued some of those girls for fraud.

In short, Cynthia already knew that Oleg existed. She just had no idea he was in the Elite Four, let alone stood up against the man who slaughtered his family.

She studied his statue carefully, trying to put his face to memory. She could see bits and pieces of other Zykovas in his features: the same nose and jaw as the scary man with the graying beard; the same plump cheeks as the laughing woman; and the same wild eyes as the woman with the spell books.

It was surreal to see a Zykova in something other than the fabulous imperial regalia the others wore. Instead, Oleg's statue sported a plain black business suit and a rather boring white and pale blue tie. Nothing about him was even remotely fancy or majestic. If Kai had never told her this man was the last Zykova, he would have simply looked the part of a normal white collar office worker and nothing more.

But perhaps that was the point. When Oleg returned to Kinzo, he had probably tried his best to blend in. Cynthia had so many questions, but no time to ask any of them because Kai was already moving along to the next figure.

"Oleg's kind of a grump, but I could spend all day talking about _this_ hottie!"

The subject of Kai's affection was a large, handsome fellow with bright orange hair, a thick beard, and a body muscular enough to rival Jet's. Every piece of exposed skin was completely covered in freckles, leaving him as speckled as a Pokémon egg. His tight jeans left very little to the imagination, but he at least had enough decency to throw a university sweatshirt over his skin-tight undershirt.

Instead of an angry expression, he seemed confident and even cocky. His attention wasn't even on Vasiliev, but rather Titania. One of his hands was firmly placed between her shoulders, as though he intended to push her forward with all his moral and physical support. Titania's statue winked back at him, equally sure of their victory. These two were obviously very close.

"This is Max Beauclair: our current Premier's son. He's also George's nephew. In his spare time; Max professionally trains and races Growlithes for dog sled races. Big Boy, his oldest, even set a record as the world's fastest Arcanine a few years ago! He's a total sweetheart and the life of every party. I hope you get to meet him sometime. He's a hoot."

Cynthia smiled politely. "Are he and Titania still friends? They seem pretty chummy in this exhibit."

The question caught Kai off guard. For once, it was her turn to be speechless. She just stared at Cynthia as if the girl just told her she managed to hatch an Arceus egg. "You…you've heard of Titania…? I, uh…" She looked at the wax figure and then back at Cynthia in complete disbelief. "I wasn't aware anyone outside of Kinzo did."

Out of the corner of her eye, Cynthia saw Campanella give her a thumbs-up: a quiet approval for somehow managing to get their impromptu tour guide to shut up.

"I met her at the airport," she found herself telling Kai. "We were at the same gate, so we talked until it was time to board. She mentioned she owned a tech company here, but that was it. I didn't even know she was a Pokémon trainer. This…" She couldn't stop staring at that statue. This was too surreal! "I never expected to see her in a place like this."

Kai's laughter turned nervous. Her pink eyes kept going back and forth between Cynthia and the card. By the time she returned it, the edges were discolored from where her fingerprints turned sweaty. "Everyone in this exhibit earned their spot, but it's specifically Max and Titania you should thank for overthrowing Comrade Vasiliev. They're the toughest trainers in Kinzo."

Cynthia felt like her head was going to explode. This was way too much to process! It took all her willpower to _not_ rush to the nearest videophone and call the number on the back of the card. ' _But what would I even say if she picked up? **Hey, Titania! Remember me from the airport? Why didn't you tell me you overthrew a dictator?** Yeah, right!_'

"So, Kai…between Max and Titania…" She could feel her heart in her throat. "Who's stronger?"

Kai didn't even hesitate to answer. " _Deeeeeefinitely_ Titania. So, um, were there any other statues you wanted to see? The rest of the Elite Four, perhaps? They're fun."

Cynthia opened her mouth, but Campanella beat her to it. "I think we can take it from here, Kai. I wanna show Cynthia our boss's statue before the museum closes."

"Oh? Your boss has a statue? How neat! Who is he?"

" _She_ , actually. We work for your regional professor!" Cynthia answered, feeling her chest start to swell with pride. "We're helping her track Pokémon migration patterns. But in order to get the data we need, we need to at least challenge the Kinzo League up to Ferrum Town. You can start exploring the wild parts once you earn an Iron Badge, right?"

"Yes, you can, but…Professor Myrtle?" When Kai said Myrtle's name, it came out as a condescending whine. " _Really_? How on earth have you put up with her for this long?"

Behind her, Cynthia heard a weird stretching noise. When she looked down, she saw Campanella was squeezing her fingerless gloves so tightly that the leather squeaked. "You better watch your fuckin' mouth, Gym Leader," Campanella growled, giving Kai a fair warning that any insults directed at her boss would not be tolerated in her presence. "Myrtle's not just my boss. She's my friend."

Normal people would have realized they misspoke and apologized for any offense. Kai simply rolled her eyes. "It's sweet that you want to defend her honor, but she kind of sucks at her job. She may have been a brilliant scientist once, but now she's just a joke."

"Last I checked; you didn't have a Ph. D. in Pokémon Ethology." Cynthia was starting to get annoyed with Kai's commentary, too. "Where do you get off, saying something like that?"

Professor Rowan once told her that regional professors were put under a lot of strain. They had to jump through so many hoops just to get certified. And there were always ambitious young upstarts trying to usurp their positions. Higher academia—especially for cushy positions like regional Pokémon professorships—was surprisingly cutthroat.

Kai just laughed and threw her head back, blonde and colorful curls mixing together as she did so. "You mean aside from the fact nobody's seen Myrtle sober in over two decades? How about the fact she's been barred from several academic conferences for inappropriate behavior? Or the fact she literally bullied the old Kalos professor into killing herself?"

' _What…?_ ' As much as Cynthia didn't want to believe Kai, the stab at Myrtle's sobriety was definitely true. Even Campanella wouldn't refute that Myrtle was a known alcoholic. And Professor Sycamore _did_ mention Myrtle had a far from positive reputation among her fellow professors. He hadn't gone into much detail—probably because he didn't want to hurt Cynthia's feelings—but what had Myrtle done to merit permanent expulsion from certain conferences?

The last remark was the most upsetting one of all. If there was any truth behind it, then Myrtle had done something truly unforgivable. Cynthia just had a hard time viewing Myrtle as anything malicious. Sure, she was occasionally vulgar on the phone and sometimes said crass things; but she'd never been mean, let alone cruel.

She glanced at Campanella, just to make sure she was okay. She very obviously wasn't. Judging from how tightly Campanella clenched her jaw, she was fighting the urge to clock Kai with each passing second. And with each word that slipped past Kai's lips; that temptation was getting increasingly difficult to resist.

Realizing that she may have gone overboard with the personal attacks, Kai cleared her throat and started to finger-brush the tangles at the ends of her hair. "You both would agree that Pokémon professors are responsible for breeding good quality starter Pokémon for new trainers, right? Like…isn't that one of their major job requirements?"

Although Cynthia felt guilty for nodding her head, she knew for a fact that was a critical part of the job. Professor Rowan spent weeks with his starter hatchlings, just so he could guarantee that every Turtwig, Piplup, and Chimchar he gave to a child was well-bred and knew how to interact with a greenhorn trainer. The starters with more difficult dispositions were either given to more experienced trainers or fostered by his aides.

It was also obvious that Professor Sycamore had done something similar, considering he quickly came up with suggestions for how to calm down Cyrus's Eevee. He knew enough about baby Pokémon to know how to soothe a nervous one or calm down one that missed its human.

Cynthia wasn't at Professor Myrtle's lab long enough to see how she interacted with her Eevees. She just knew she couldn't go anywhere in that lab without running into nearly a dozen of them. They ran all over the house, overloaded the litter boxes, slept in large groups on massive pet beds, and clearly kept her busy. Myrtle always appeared to be tired and overwhelmed during calls, probably because she had to keep an eye on too many unwanted starters.

"Professor Myrtle gave me my starter Eevee," Kai confessed. "I evolved Rusalka into a Vaporeon almost immediately because I wanted to be a Water ES. And let me tell you something. That Vaporeon is the weakest, sickest Pokémon I've ever had. I can't competitively battle with her and I constantly have to take her to the Pokémon Center for a multitude of health problems. Rusalka's just a glorified pet: something cute to sit there and make rude faces at my challengers. But I guess I can't be too surprised. Those Eevees are probably every bit as inbred as the woman who raised them."

"Kai…" Cynthia wanted to warn her that she'd gone too far. She could understand why she was frustrated about Rusalka. The odds of having an Eevee with the perfect stats and best nature were one in sixty-four, but that didn't excuse that last remark! Who did she think she was, saying stuff like that!? "You need to stop."

"I mean, really. What was Comrade Beauclair thinking, letting her keep her tenure after Comrade Vasiliev was deposed?"

Even with the angry huffing noises coming from Campanella and the increasingly angry expression on Cynthia's face, Kai wouldn't let up. Her dislike for Myrtle was every bit as palpable as her hate for Tsar Valentin IIe. "I just don't understand why he'd permit some alcoholic hick from Goldenrod City to keep that title when there are plenty of perfectly capable young scholars in our universities just _dying_ to—"

Campanella slugged Kai before she could finish that statement. The Hydrargyrum Gym Leader fell over backwards, landing in the middle of the Six Heroes display case. The Titania statue fell over on top of her. When it made impact with the ground, the head fell off and rolled across the floor.

Tourists began to scream, not sure what just happened. Kai's legs flailed helplessly in the air as she tried to get up, but even more statues began to topple over. By the time security came in to help her, the only two figures still standing in that exhibit were Sergei Vasiliev and Max Beauclair.

And considering how pale and immobile Campanella was, she may as well have been a statue too.


	46. The Bout

**Author's Note: Many of the cities you'll explore in the Kinzo region were very loosely modeled after real places in the former Soviet Union: Prokopyevsk, Pripyat, Kiev, St. Petersburg, Moscow, etc. Kalium City is very roughly based off Odessa, Ukraine.**

 **Before Cynthia and Cyrus arrive in a town; I'll research the real-life counterpart and come up with a list of attractions I think would be neat to see if Kinzo were an actual game rather than just a story. Some places don't have a lot to do, but Odessa certainly does! The city is best known for its unique sense of humor, beautiful beaches, art museums, and the Potemkin Stairs: all of which must sound pretty familiar by now!**

 **Odessa is also famous for its "catacombs:" a network of abandoned mining tunnels that sprawl beneath most of the city. Although you can tour some of the tunnels, people are strongly advised not to try this on their own. GPS won't work and it's way too easy to get lost.**

 **I'm a veteran urban spelunker. In high school, it was mostly abandoned houses, warehouse, and textile mills. In college, I graduated to abandoned malls, mental hospitals, and even a pharmaceutical plant with (of all things) a crematorium. Naturally, I was intrigued by the Odessa Catacombs!**

 **I'm half a world away from Ukraine, so it's likely I'll never have a chance to explore these tunnels. At least I can send Cyrus into an alternate version of them and give him a muuuuuuuch more harrowing experience than I'd probably have. He probably won't enjoy this, but I certainly hope you will!**

 **That said: there is a content warning for ghosts and dead bodies in this chapter.**

 **…**

Alexander Akagi was a tall, intimidating-looking fellow with sharp eyes that made people stop whatever they were doing for fear of messing up in his presence. Although Cyrus inherited his father's stern expressions, he unfortunately hadn't inherited his height. Like his mother; he was condemned to a life of short stature, bird bones, and a way-too-fast metabolism that constantly made people wonder if he skipped meals.

Most of the time, he viewed his small frame as more of a hindrance than a blessing. If he needed something on the top shelf at a store, he'd have to rest his feet on the bottom shelf rather than the floor. The way his parents stacked the laundry machines meant he needed a step-ladder just to see the controls on the dryer. It also meant that assholes like Avdantil could shove him around more easily.

Although Cyrus's pediatrician insisted he'd have one more growth spurt in his late teens to early twenties, he'd never be taller than just below average height.

Exploring the Kalium Catacombs was the first time he felt glad to be short. The ceilings were very low. A man of average height could easily bump his head if he wasn't paying attention and a tall man would have to hunch down the entire time. For the most part, Cyrus could maintain close to perfect posture and even stretch out. The only thing he couldn't do until they made it to the bottom of the stairs was lift his arms.

Occasionally, he'd move slower than Renata and make mental note of his surroundings…not that there was much to see yet. Aside from the long cascade of stairs and the metal support rungs hammered into the sides, all he saw were stone walls of varying shades of sand and bone. "What were these tunnels used for? I'm guessing some sort of mining?"

"That's right!" Renata's tone was playful, even bordering on giddy. She didn't even attempt to hide her excitement. "They used to be nothing but a network of limestone caverns, but limestone was in high demand for construction projects during the imperial era. And you know how it goes: if there's something valuable in the dirt, people will build a town around it."

Cyrus nodded his head to be polite. He'd really only asked that question to make small talk. At least Cynthia wasn't here. If she'd tagged along, she'd talk everyone's ear off. Not only would she bombard Renata with questions, but she'd chime in with random tidbits of historical trivia she'd picked up from her books and those cheesy public access documentaries she'd been watching in the Lodge.

Renata wasn't a historian, nor was she a tour guide like that gentleman who walked them through Ædranos. She was just an older Kinzonian who (sort of) knew her way around the catacombs. All she wanted to do was catch a Pokémon for her grandchild…or so Cyrus thought.

"These tunnels are actually older than Kalium City. Another city used to exist on this spot. Other than Katarina Square—where you'll be battling Jet—this is all that's left of old Kaliygorod. Everything else went up in a fire a long, long time ago." Okay. He was wrong. She was clearly in a chatty mood after all. "I really only know that much because I grew up less than a block from here," Renata admitted with a little chuckle, tossing her flashlight from hand to hand.

' _Alright. That makes sense. I guess she moved to Stannum City when she was older._ '

Lots of people didn't stay in their hometowns. Cyrus's father grew up in a military household that moved to a new base every couple of years. As a result, Alexander had an extensive collection of gym badges, but never a complete set. He never stayed anywhere long enough to make anything other than short term friends, all of which he ghosted as soon as it was time to pack his bags and leave. None of his relationships were anything remotely close to permanent until he met Nichole…not that her childhood had been stable, either.

She spent the first few years of her life in Veilstone City. Although she had no clear memories of her time there, she was at least old enough to remember she'd felt safe there. Then her family left mainland Sinnoh to live on an island that was disputed territory between Sinnoh and Kinzo. Route 228's climate was hostile, the weather was intense, and Nichole wanted to leave before she even arrived.

Neither she nor Alexander came from Sunyshore City. They only moved there for work and because Sunyshore had the best schools. Just like everything else in their lives; that move had been calculated.

"I normally don't feel homesick when I visit Kalium. It really only happens when I'm underground. I lost count of how many times my friends and I snuck down here to go treasure hunting."

"For limestone?" Cyrus wasn't quite sure why a kid would want that. Maybe there were old relics down there: like old coins or something. That would make more sense.

Renata stopped mid-step and turned around to give Cyrus a cheesy grin. She held up her flashlight to get a good look at his confused face and burst into a giggling fit. "No, dear. There's something muuuuch more valuable than limestone in these dark, dank depths! When people started digging deeper into the ground, they started finding Dusk Stones too."

"Oh, _really_?" That was a useful tidbit of information! "I have two Pokémon in quarantine right now. One of them can evolve with a Dusk Stone." Truth be told, he was tempted to call Professor Myrtle and ask her how his Murkrow was doing.

Murkrow was a fiercely intelligent Pokémon. Cyrus sometimes turned him loose at night and let him fly around the city—but only if Murkrow promised to keep quiet. When he did that, the bird would tap on the window when he wanted to be let in. He would always come back with something shiny and drop the loot on the bed.

In the wild, Murkrows traveled in large murders and paid tribute to a fully evolved alpha bird. The fact Cyrus's Murkrow brought him gifts meant he viewed Cyrus as his Honchkrow. The bird would look up at him with his big red eyes and puff up his feathers. He wanted to be praised for finding something useful, even if all he found were bottle caps and broken earrings.

Murkrow even tried to learn some human words so he could "talk" with Cyrus. Most of what he said were things he heard regularly (like "ssssssh" and "good bird") but sometimes he'd sigh and say, "Hnnn. Poor Murkrow," in a warped parody of Nichole's voice. That would never stop being funny.

Cyrus sometimes had to worry about his Houndour biting him. The only thing he had to worry about with Murkrow was how noisy he could get. Honchkrows weren't as talkative. They were also stronger, more aloof, and much shrewder than their pre-evolved counterparts. He wanted to evolve his Murkrow someday, but Dusk Stones were near impossible to find in Sinnoh. Maybe his luck was finally starting to turn around. "If I find one, is it okay to take it?"

"If it's on the ground, help yourself. Just don't try to dig anything out. Some of the tunnels aren't structurally sound. We don't want to risk a cave-in, do we?"

"No. Of course not." Great. Now he was starting to second-guess how safe they'd be in this subterranean labyrinth. Renata gestured for him to follow her down the stairs, but Cyrus shook his head in protest. "I don't know, Renata. If the tunnels are that unstable, then maybe we shouldn't try to—"

"Dear, we're fine. There hasn't been a cave-in since the '30s! Nobody mines down here anymore. These days, people mostly use the catacombs to get around the city after dark. Why, if you're brave enough, you can even use them to walk to Hydrargyrum City! Do you have any more questions before we finish our descent?" Renata batted her eyes playfully, clearly eager to share more information. This place clearly carried a lot of sentimental value for her. It was kind of cute, in a weird way. "Anything at all?"

"Um…" There was one thing that still didn't make much sense to Cyrus. He'd probably regret asking her this, but he had to know. "If they're just mining tunnels, why are you calling them catacombs?"

He couldn't see Renata's face too well, but he definitely heard her clear some phlegm from her throat. She exhaled slowly: not quite a sigh, but close to it. "Um…well…people have been known to get lost down here. Some of them never make it back to the surface. That's why I borrowed Lulu's Abra. I won't lie to you, dear. There's a slight chance we might see a dead body while we're down here. If that happens, try not to get too close to it. Okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Oh god. There had been corpses in the Ædranos Ruins, too; but those were so old that it was easy to half-pretend they were statues. If they found a corpse down here; it would be newer, fresher, and probably a source of food for whatever Pokémon lived in the tunnels. Cyrus shivered, trying his best not to imagine what he or Renata would look like if the catacombs claimed them as its next victims.

"But don't you worry. I've been exploring this particular stretch since I was a little girl. Just stick close to me and we might not even need to use that Abr—"

"AAAAAAAAGH!"

A strange, tentacle-like thing brushed through Cyrus's hair and touched his scalp. It felt cold, slightly damp, and unsettlingly organic. He lost his balance and dropped his flashlight, so he couldn't immediately tell what it was. He crouched down, clutched the flashlight to his chest, and tried to steady his hand before he pointed it upward.

The sandy-colored stones were wet and cracked, dripping cold water from the surface down into the tunnel. And there, slithered between the cracks, were what appeared to be brownish-red roots. In the dim light, they strongly resembled arteries. The fact they discolored the stone around them to a rusty color only made the likeness even more disturbingly uncanny.

"Are you okay, dear? If this is too much for you, we can always—"

"I'm fine!" Cyrus huffed, hoping he sounded more confident than he actually felt. Even with slow breaths, it would take a few minutes before his heart rate returned to normal. "That just…surprised me. That's all…" He pointed the flashlight back at the roots, only to watch as they slithered back into the rock. It had to be a weird trick of the light. There was no way a plant would behave like that.

Just to make sure nothing else touched his hair, he pulled up the hood on his parka and tightened the draw-strap.

…

Walking down the steps only took about five minutes, but it felt more like five hours. Cyrus kept glancing upward to see if there were any more of those weird red root things, but they didn't reappear until he made it to the bottom of the stairs. Down there, the roots were so plentiful that parts of the ceiling more closely resembled raw meat rather than stone.

"What are these things?" Cyrus asked, poking one of the roots. "I'm guessing they belong to some kind of plant, but I didn't see anything other than grass and bushes around town." There was no way anything he saw on the surface could dig down this deep. They had to be nearly half a kilometer underground!

Convinced that he'd seen this thing shy away from the light earlier, he cranked up the intensity of his flashlight and moved closer. Nothing budged. Even when he poked it, it remained in place. "Is it a fungus, you think? Or maybe part of a Pokémon?"

Renata shrugged her shoulders. "I don't rightly know. They weren't here last time." She paced back and forth, scratching her chin in contemplation. "I can't make heads or tails of it. Maybe it's part of the Bout."

"The what?"

Realizing that she'd just dropped an unfamiliar term, the old woman cleared her throat and murmured a quick apology under her breath. "I want to preface this by saying that so far as I know, the Bout isn't a Pokémon. We don't even have any proof that it's real."

Those roots looked pretty damn real.

"According to local myths, the Bout is a spirit that lives in the catacombs and protects its treasures. Some say it's the ghost of a dead miner. Others say it's an ancient god we stopped worshipping a long time ago. It doesn't really matter where it came from. What _does_ matter is that the Bout will trap you if you try to take something that's best left well enough alone."

Ah. Now he could see where this was going. Somebody probably created this legend to deter jewel thieves from stealing Dusk Stones, or at least explain all the disappearances. Cyrus didn't put much stock into ghost stories, but Renata was quite an eager storyteller. With every sentence, her eyes glanced up at him: obviously assessing how much of this nonsense she could convince him to believe.

None. The answer was none.

"The first thing the Bout will do is kill your light source. As you wander around in the cold, damp darkness; you'll slowly start to lose your mind. When you finally die; the last thing you'll feel is your body being reabsorbed by the tunnels. All that will remain is your soul, and it will be trapped down here forever…eternally trying to run away from the Bout."

Renata held her flashlight beneath her jaw and flickered it a few times for dramatic effect. She even made some goofy ghost sounds in an attempt to lighten the mood. "Ooooooh! Ooooooh! The Bout is gonna get youuuuu!"

Cyrus rolled his eyes and told her to knock it off. It was an interesting story, but he didn't believe a word of it.

Mythology had always been a guilty pleasure of his, but not because he had any faith in ancient gods. Myths were just creative answers to phenomena early man couldn't otherwise explain. He knew every single Sinnohan myth by heart, but this "Bout" thing was his first encounter with something in the Kinzonian arcana. Go figure it would be something macabre like a predatory tunnel ghost.

He glanced up at the red roots again, a bit embarrassed that he'd squawked so loudly over something so stupid. He even pressed down on a big fat root, just to make sure it stayed put. When nothing happened, he let loose a quick sigh of relief. ' _See? Nothing to be afraid of. You're working yourself up over a whole lot of nothing._ '

"I don't put much stock in ghost stories, either. They're nothing but a bunch of hokum." Suddenly hearing Renata talk again pulled him out of his thoughts. She grabbed a stone and tossed it down one of the corridors. Instead of hitting more stone, it hit something that squeaked and scurried off. "We're going this way. I heard a Pokémon!"

"Okay. I'm coming." Cyrus gave the red roots one last glance before turning his back to them. ' _The Bout doesn't exist and the walls aren't covered in meat. Your imagination is just getting the best of you.'_ He picked up the pace, quickly catching up to Renata. As soon as he left and took the light with him, the roots slithered back into the stone.

…

"Phew! I'm beat!"

Renata's Torkoal conjured up so much smoke in that last battle that Cyrus could barely make out his friend's silhouette against the tunnel wall. When the smoke finally subsided, he could tell she needed to take a break. The old lady's entire body was covered in soot, dust, and sweat. She tried to wipe some of the grime off with a handkerchief, but all that did was smear the dirt around until her skin was covered in big black streaks.

"At least we finally caught a Nosepass," she huffed between coughs. She held the occupied Great Ball in her right hand and tried to wipe it off with her mitten. "I had no idea it would take that long to find one. They used to be everywhere!"

"We probably would have found one a whole lot faster if you didn't want to battle everything that moves." Cyrus scooped his tired Eevee off the ground and cradled the tired Pokémon in his arms. Even though Eevee occasionally made happy noises, most of the sounds he made were tired, labored breathing. He'd gotten one hell of a workout. "I never would have pegged you as a battle nut. You're just as bad as Cynthia."

"Ha ha." That laugh was sarcastic, but Renata wasn't even remotely offended. She winked at him, pairing it with a playful grin.

For the past two and a half hours, he'd struggled to keep up with this woman's breakneck pace. Every time Renata spotted a Pokémon, she charged ahead and wanted to battle it. Cyrus almost felt like he was traveling with a little kid! Thus far; they had knocked out a Diglett, an Aron, four Zubats, three Rattatas, a Snorunt, a Shuckle, and six Swinubs.

Not once did Renata use one of the Poké Dolls she purchased at the Farmer's Market. Those were still in her inventory.

When Cyrus first agreed to explore the Catacombs with her, he'd assumed they would need to take regular breaks due to Renata's age and health. Not only was she old enough to be his grandmother, but she was also overweight. Despite the fact his friend was built like a human Purugly, every break they'd taken up to this point had been because _he_ was tired. This was the first time Renata gave any indication of being anywhere remotely close to worn out.

"I think we should take a break. You're all sweaty." At the very least, Cyrus knew his Eevee would appreciate a brief respite. When he tried to put Eevee down, the Pokémon pushed its paws against his chest and whined like a spoiled baby. It finally went completely limp, draping its body across Cyrus's arms. Just watching the melodramatic creature made Cyrus's back hurt.

Renata took a moment to catch her breath, but nodded her head in agreement. "There's an old bomb shelter close by. That's as good a place as any to heal our Pokémon and have a quick snack."

Of all the things Cyrus expected to see today, a bomb shelter wasn't among them. Still, he supposed it made sense that some of the tunnels would be repurposed into shelters. If they were sturdy enough to stand with an entire city on top of them, then they could probably withstand a blast, too.

He held out his arm to give Renata some additional support. For the first time this entire trip, she accepted it. "Thanks, dear. You're such a good boy for humoring me. Do you think Opal will like her present?"

"Considering how long it took us to catch that damn thing, she'd better." Renata let loose a big laugh, but Cyrus was serious. Not every kid had a grandparent willing to brave the Kinzonian underworld, just to catch them a special Pokémon. "Opal's lucky to have a grandmother like you."

"That's awfully sweet of you to say. Thank you!" Renata hugged his arm and leaned into him a little more. "What about your grandparents, Cyrus? Are they anything like me?"

Cyrus inhaled very slowly and let the air sit there for a while, but he shook his head. Both his grandmothers were dead and Alexander's father was completely out of the picture. All he really had was his maternal grandfather, whom he adored. In fact, spending all this time with Renata had been bittersweet. As much as he enjoyed hanging out with her, just being around her made him feel homesick. All he wanted to do was pick up the phone, hear that comforting and familiar voice, and tell him all about his Kinzo adventure.

"No," he ended up telling Renata. "I love my grandfather, but he's nothing like you." Renata was a go-getter: a scrappy old soul who welcomed a little excitement in her life. His grandfather was more inclined to stay at home, sit in his chair, and watch the world pass him by. They were both good people with kind hearts, but their personalities were as different as night and day…or Cynthia and himself.

He was about to say something else, but he felt Renata's hand gently pat his shoulder. "I hope I didn't stir up anything bad by asking."

"Hm? Oh. No, you didn't. I just miss him. That's all."

That seemed to resonate with her. Renata gave one quick, firm nod of her head and gave him a quick one-armed hug. "Well, don't get too homesick. When you go back to Sinnoh, I'll have a big Cyrus-sized hole in my heart. Until you head home, I think Opal can share her _babushka_."

As sweet as that was, Cyrus ended up letting loose a snort through his nose. He was about to tell her that was the corniest, sappiest thing he'd ever heard her say; but something on the ground caught his attention. He pointed his flashlight at it, not quite sure what it was at first. A Dusk Stone, possibly? Once he was close enough to figure out what it was, he frowned in disappointment.

"I guess we were overdue for finding junk down here. It's nothing but an old Poké Ball."

He tapped the ball with the toe of his shoe, accidentally hitting the button in the process. He was ready to put his Eevee down so it could battle whatever came out, but there was no Pokémon inside. Instead, the ball contained some kind of triangular metal apparatus with a dial in the middle. "What the h—"

"Ah. I know what this is!" Renata crouched down and picked the device up. When she pulled the dial back, it began to swing back and forth in repetitive, timed motions. "It's a Metronome. If one of your Pokémon holds it in a battle, their attack will amplify every time you use the same move. My daughter has one of these. Nice find, Cyrus!" She held it out, just in case he wanted it.

"Do you want it?" he asked Renata, but she shook her head. "Okay. I'll see if Cynthia wants it. I guess one man's trash is another man's treasure."

Considering how jovial Renata had been for most of the trip, he'd expected her to laugh over that. Instead, she was uncharacteristically silent. Her flashlight was in her lap and pointed downward at her feet. Although Cyrus could only clearly see her bright green shoes and pantyhose, there was enough light in the tunnel to make out the silhouette of Renata's head. She seemed to be hanging it kind of low, like she was saying a quick prayer for something.

"Uh…are you okay? What are you doing?"

"Oh, nothing. I was just saying a quick prayer for the poor thing that used to be in that ball." Cyrus's grip on his flashlight tightened. Of all the things Renata could have said, he wasn't expecting that. He looked at her—trying to see if she was joking around the way she had about the Bout—but she was serious. "When you're exploring wild terrain, you'll sometimes find Poké Balls containing items on the ground. Like you, I used to think they were nothing but litter: just things trainers didn't want anymore and threw out with the trash. That's not the case.

"See, dear, when Pokémon die; we're supposed to turn over the Poké Ball to the Pokémon Center. That way, a nurse can report the death to the International League and cremate the body. You then take the cremains to a place that was special to the both of you, scatter the ashes, and say goodbye. That way, your Pokémon's spirit will know how much you loved it and be able to cross over.

"But not everyone has a good relationship with their Pokémon. In fact, some trainers throw unwanted Pokémon out with the trash. Instead of releasing them back into the wild, they'll just dump the ball. The poor thing withers away until nothing's left but the item they held in life…and in some cases, a very angry ghost." That was quite possibly the most morbid thing he'd heard all day. Sure, the Bout was creepy; but this was rooted in fact. Stories only had so much power compared to reality. "I know you and your Golbat aren't on the best of terms, so—"

"What the hell, Renata!? I'd never do that!"

Golbat hated him and he wasn't exactly fond of Golbat, either; but he'd never throw him away. Worst case scenario; he'd take a day trip back to Plumbum City, go back to the Ædranos Ruins, and release Golbat back into the wild. If he did that, Golbat would at least be with the rest of his colony.

"If you catch a Pokémon, you're responsible for it! Leaving it to die a slow death like that, it's…"

Only a heartless bastard would leave a Pokémon behind with no chance for survival. That ball was a corpse: a landmark of death and intentional neglect. Did that Pokémon even realize what was going on? Did it die thinking that its trainer would come back for it; or did it realize halfway through that slow, awful death that it been abandoned?

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you. I just can't fathom why someone would—"

"Ssssssh. It's okay." She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze and tried to pull him deeper down the chamber. "Come on. Let's keep moving."

…

' _Hold your charge, damn it! I swapped out your batteries less than an hour ago!_ '

Had he known this flashlight would be such a battery hog, he would have splurged on the fancy high-tech one that generated a charge when he shook it. Batteries were cheap and easy to find, so it hadn't felt like a big deal at the time. Now he was internally kicking himself for buying this piece of junk.

At least it had enough decency to warn him when the battery was about to die. Instead of shutting off without warning, the bulb flickered in increasing frequencies. For a while, he could slap it and get the charge to come back; but that was just a band-aid solution. What he really needed to find was an alternate light source bright enough for him to swap the batteries out without fumbling around. Renata's flashlight would do in a pinch, but it was frustratingly dim. Once he had a chance to catch his breath, he'd look for something brighter: like a leftover kerosene lamp.

"Here we are!" Renata nudged her neck to the right, trying to direct Cyrus's attention to a narrow corridor. "Parts of the floor might be wet, so watch your step and avoid the puddles. You don't want to step in them. Trust me."

The first thing Cyrus noticed when he entered the bomb shelter was a large rectangular slab of limestone in the middle of the "room." All four sides were surrounded with smaller square slabs: like a parody of a dining table and chairs. There wasn't much on the makeshift table aside from a half-empty vodka bottle, some Styrofoam plates, and four empty tins of food. A lot more trash was on the floor, but the grossest things were the plastic bottles filled with yellow liquid. His right nostril and upper lip curled up in disgust because he knew what those were for.

Some of the other tunnels were covered in graffiti, but there was only one instance of that in the shelter. Spray-painted in large, angry red letters was somebody's furious message: **Иди домой! Никто не хочет тебя здесь!** Although he devoted his entire hospital stay to learning some basic Kinzonian, all he could make out was the first sentence: _go home_.

The other walls were covered with dried brown splatters, damage from bullets, and dusty old military posters. He'd seen a few propaganda posters in the Trainers Lodge, but those were mostly in red and gold (Kinzo's national colors) and written in the native language. These were written in something else.

Most of the posters were too torn or damaged to read, but one was still in perfect shape: a bit yellowed from age, but otherwise fine. In it, a handsome auburn-haired soldier in a blue uniform protectively stood in front of a terrified woman in a red and gold checkered dress. Her blonde hair was neatly tied back with a scarf.

All around the couple were various racist caricatures of other regions: a dusky-skinned man in a turban, a squinty-eyed man with buck teeth and thick glasses, a fat and effeminate-looking man with a monocle and overly decorated military suit, and so much more. The longer Cyrus looked at it, the more annoyed he became with the blatant xenophobia.

 **Gardez-les! Kinzo Sud appartient à Kalos en Dóxa!**

"What the hell am I looking at?" He'd been thinking aloud, so he didn't expect Renata to answer him. Thankfully, she didn't. She was too busy fishing through her bag for the mint lemonade and those big bagel-like things. He'd already forgotten what she called them.

As he tried to come down from a moment of overstimulation, he searched the room for what he'd wanted earlier: a kerosene lamp. It would burn brighter than a flashlight and hopefully generate some warmth. By some miracle, he found one tucked away to the left of the foyer—along with a small canister of fuel!

He gingerly reached for the lamp, half expecting some of those creepy red roots to crawl out of the darkness and grab him. Even though the logical half of his brain kept reminding him that the Bout wasn't real, his more paranoid side was becoming increasingly vocal. There was something soothing about seeing that tiny, confined fire beneath the glass.

With the lamp, more details became apparent. There were metal shelves on all four sides, some of which were drilled directly into the stone. Most were empty, but a few were still stocked with dusty boxes. Even though the words printed on the boxes were in the same foreign language as the poster, he could tell what was inside: food, medicine, and even ammunition.

Attached to the shelving was a clipboard containing several pages of yellowed notebook paper. **Les fournitures sont limitées. Prenez ce dont vous avez besoin et rien d'autre.**

Seeing the entire room had been impossible with just the flashlight. Now that everything was better illuminated, Cyrus spotted a narrow passage leading into a second "room." He craned his head in, holding the lamp just beneath his jaw. "There's barracks in here. It looks like some of them still have mattresses, too. If that stone seat isn't comfortable enough for you—"

"I'll pass. There's no telling what kind of vermin made a home in those things. I wouldn't touch anything in there, were I you."

"Duly noted, Renata." Not that there was any risk of him doing that. The stench coming from that room was nothing short of nauseating. When Cyrus entered, he pinched his nose and made doubly sure to watch where he stepped. ' _I bet it's raw sewage. The other room had pee bottles, so this is probably where—yeah. I was right. There it is._ '

Less than a centimeter away from the tip of his boot was a trench filled to the brim with a putrid black liquid. Pieces of paper, cloth wipes, napkins, and other streaked things were mixed into the mess; but that was nothing compared to the alarming amount of liquefied feces. It looked like a giant brown Muk.

On the opposite wall were six rows of rusty metal bunk beds; half of which still had their rotten, wafer-thin mattresses. Even with the additional light, a couple of mattresses appeared to be closer to brown than their original eggshell white. But as bad as the raw sewage smelled, Cyrus's nose picked up something even nastier from the bunk bed in the far right corner. It wasn't piss, shit, and dirt; but something moldy and spoiled.

Every few seconds, a wet spot on the ceiling trickled onto that bed. Shortly afterward, something from the top bunk dripped onto the bottom bunk. The bottom mattress was completely covered in white, dark green and black bacteria: proof this had gone on for quite a while. And the top—

"Fuck!"

The quick glimpse Cyrus caught before he dropped the lamp didn't tell him much: just that it was a dead body. He crouched down to grab the lamp and took a moment to steady his breathing. Deep breaths typically soothed his nerves; but he didn't want to inhale too much of this air's ripe miasma. If he did; he'd puke, scream, or some nasty combination of the two.

While down there, he noticed a clunky-looking gadget similar to his PokéStat. Although its screen was cracked and there was no way that thing would still hold a charge after all these years, he couldn't help himself. The device went into his pocket, even though there was no good reason for him to take it.

"Whatever's up there can't hurt you," he whispered as he tried to steady the lamp in his hand. "It's dead. Dead things can't hurt you. Dead things…oh _shit_ …"

Initially, the corpse looked like nothing but a bundle of dirty clothes; but there was definitely something inside them. Judging from the size of the body and how it was dressed, this used to be a little boy. He couldn't have been any older than ten or eleven years old when he died. The body wore mustard yellow pants, a white and brown striped rugby shirt, and an oversized orange letterman jacket. His face (thank Arceus) was mercifully hidden beneath a yellow and white baseball cap.

Cyrus swallowed all the spit in his mouth, but it went down like a stone. When it landed in the pit of his stomach, all he could think about was it spreading across his stomach like the rancid germ bouquet growing on the bottom bunk. He tried to shout or call for Renata, but he was temporarily mute. The only thing he could force out was a terrified hiccup.

"Эй!"

If his backpack hadn't snagged on a nearby bunk bed, he would have fallen over again. Even as he squirmed to get himself free, he could feel his Eevee doing the same thing inside the bag. He'd been napping ever since they took a break from battling, but Cyrus's obviously terrified motions woke him up instantly.

The Pokémon squeaked in protest, startled and angry. "Veeeeeee!" One of his ears poked its way out of the bag, twitching up and down like a furry antenna. "Vee Ee-VEE!"

For his Pokémon's sake, Cyrus stopped jerking around and tried to gently free himself from the bed post. He turned his head to the side, saw where he was caught, and pulled the strap. Eevee's entire head was sticking out, squeaking a litany of unintelligible curses at his trainer for giving him such a scare. "Vee vee vee vee—"

"Sssssssh. Shut up, Eevee." Putting his hand over his Pokémon's mouth probably wasn't a smart idea, but he didn't want him to make any noise. Eevee licked his hand, causing Cyrus to twitch in mild revulsion.

"Здравствуйте!"

Shit. It was that voice again! Cyrus kept looking around the room, trying to find the source. He must have spun an entire 360 degrees, but the lamp didn't pick up any silhouettes other than—

' _No. There's no fucking way!_ ' But he had to look at the top bunk again, just to confirm. He instantly regretted doing that.

Right in front of the corpse was a small crow-like creature comprised of black smoke and a pair of glowing, menacing red eyes. Its lower eyelids curled upward, as if it were thrilled to have company at long last. "Это твой покемон?" Its voice was childish, playful, and disturbingly close to human.

Cyrus only understood some of what it was trying to say. The thing had greeted him two different ways in Kinzonian, but the only word he understood from its question was the last one: _Pokémon_. "Wh-what…? What are yuh-you d—"

A long, spindly black arm reached toward him and pulled the drawstring on his bag. Eevee yelped in surprise and began hissing at the creature. When the thing tried to pet him, Eevee snapped at the hand and snarled loudly. The poor thing wasn't very threatening, even when he was trying his best to be vicious.

' _Is it a ghost?_ ' That was all he could figure. Cynthia had mentioned before that her Spiritomb sometimes tried to "talk" to her. It would plant sentences in her head, but those messages were seldom anything pleasant. ' _Or is it the Bout…? What the fuck IS it?!_ '

Whatever it was, it knew Kinzonian. This thing used to be human, or at least some twisted variant of one. "О, аккуратно! У тебя есть Эви!" It tried to pet Eevee again, which only distressed the Pokémon further. Every hair on Eevee's brown coat was standing up in fear. "Я тоже! Вы получили это от профессора Миртл?"

' _Профессора Миртл…'_ Cyrus could feel his blood turn cold because it didn't take a genius to figure out what that meant. ' _Professora Mirtl!_ _This fucking thing is talking about Professor Myrtle!_ ' He couldn't take this anymore. If it was a Ghost Pokémon, then his only hope would be to fight it off with Golbat. He reached in his pocket for Golbat's ball, trying his best not to drop it, but—

"Здесь..." More dark fog began to waft from the bed. Other than a solid blackness, Cyrus caught sight of something purple…and a gold face-like thing lovingly clutched in the ghost's foot-like talons. "позвольте мне показать вам мое…"

"RENATAAAAAA! HELP!"

Even if Eevee fought his scrappy little heart out, all he'd manage to do was piss off the ghost rather than hurt it. As defiant and oppositional as Golbat was, he was the only Pokémon in Cyrus's party that knew a Dark move. ' _Please don't attack me again,_ ' he thought as he pulled Golbat's ball out. ' _I don't want to go back to that hospital. I never want to be hurt that badly again, period! But please, just this once, would you—what the HELL, Golbat?!_ '

Even though he threw Golbat's ball into the center of the room, nothing came out. Either he missed the button entirely or Golbat was intentionally playing hard to get at the worst possible moment. As Renata's footsteps grew louder, Cyrus noticed his Eevee was trying to claw his way out of his bag. "What are you doing?! Stay put! You can't fight this thing!"

But Eevee was insistent. He smelled the fear on his human and wanted to come to his defense. The little Pokémon broke free, dropping Cyrus's supplies all across the ground. Once his feet were on the floor, he got into his battle stance and hissed at the ghost. "Veeeeee…"

"Don't be stupid, Eevee! If that thing's a Ghost Pokémon, then none of your attacks will—"

"Vee!" Eevee dug his claws into the ground and hoisted his tail up. He barked at Cyrus, hoping to get him to issue a battle command, but it was too late. The ghosts were already taking action.

To the left of the black ghost was a cloud of purple fog that briefly morphed into the shape of an Eevee. In its center was a dark mass: an orb with two bright white "eyes" and a mouth. The edges of that mouth stretched too far, giving off the appearance that the "Eevee's" lower jaw had completely detached from the rest of its head.

"Эви," the red-eyed monster called out in a strangely affectionate tone: like a little kid calling its beloved pet by a nickname. "КЛЯСТЬ!"

The black and purple cloud dropped the illusion. It wasn't some kind of spectral Eevee, but a Gastly. Eevee's eyes grew big as the Gastly attacked itself and made a terrible shrieking sound. All of its colorful bits sucked inside of its black center, and then rushed out to hit Eevee with a powerful burst.

"VEE!" Eevee barked angrily, stomping his foot on the ground. If Cyrus wasn't going to issue a command, then he'd try to solve things himself! The Pokémon glanced down at the floor and noticed some of the dirt was loose. Good! He swatted at the dirt with his tail until he had a huge clump of it in front of him, and then kicked it right in the Gastly's face.

Watching his Pokémon use Sand Attack on his own was enough to jolt Cyrus back to reality. "Would you PLEASE stop dawdling, Renata?! There's a Gastly down here and Eevee's trying to fight it!"

"I'm going as fast I can, dear!" Oh thank Arceus. She was less than five meters away now! Renata called out her Torkoal and wasted no time giving a command. "Use Yawn! If it nods off, we can run away!"

The big orange tortoise blinked his eyes slowly and opened his mouth to let loose a slow, sleepy yawn. The fact that there was an actual ghost in front of him didn't seem to faze him at all. At least the yawn seemed to have some kind of effect on the Gastly. It yawned in response, stretching its maw so far that it briefly appeared to be nothing but a giant mouth.

"Is it just the Gastly, dear?"

"N-no. There's also…um…" All the saliva in his mouth felt like rubber cement. " _That_ …thing…"

The black ghost threw its arms up in the air like a child on the verge of a tantrum. "Нечестно!" Its eyes were glowing brighter than before: like a pair of lanterns! "Сожги его, Эви!"

Whatever it said, Gastly understood the command. Its gaseous body burst into a ball of blue flames and charged directly at Eevee. Eevee tried to run away and dodge the attack, but he wasn't fast enough. When the ghost made contact with him, he shrieked in a combination of pain and horror.

The raw sewage and rotting flesh smelled bad enough on their own. Now the room smelled like burnt fur, too.

' _Shit! Do I have anything that can help him? What was that powder called, again? Or was it the root? Or—wait!_ ' Maybe it was a blessing in disguise that Eevee knocked his supplies everywhere. There, strewn about with the spilled roots and powders, was a Berry Bar. "Eevee!" Cyrus tried to get his Pokémon's attention, though he suspected Eevee was in too much pain to notice. "Here! It should help with the burn!"

There was just one problem: the ghost wouldn't leave anyone alone long enough to administer medicine. "Ночной Тень!"

All the lights in the room temporarily shut off. Even the kerosene lamp flickered out. In that pitch black chamber, the only remaining source of light were the ghost's scarlet eyes. When the lights came back on, Eevee didn't appear to be any worse off than he already was. Whatever attack the Gastly used, its target was the Torkoal.

"визг!"

' _Damn it! It's not giving us any time to call out attacks!_ ' Cyrus was about ready to tell Eevee to kick more dirt at the Gastly, but it wouldn't do him any good. Worse still, Eevee appeared to be getting sicker with each turn. ' _Shit…this isn't good…_ '

The Gastly floated toward Eevee and Torkoal, grinning menacingly. It opened its mouth and let loose a high pitched, migraine-inducing screech. The sound wasn't too far removed from the tiny drills dentists sometimes used, but a hundred times louder. The noise was so terrible that Cyrus could feel it in his eyes. He shut his eyelids and firmly pressed his hands over his ears, not that it helped much.

When the Gastly stopped screaming and the room turned quiet again, he opened one eye to see his poor Eevee stumbling on the ground. The Pokémon's ears twitched haphazardly and his feet fumbled to find stable ground. He kept trying to stand up, but all he could do was flop and whine.

"Eevee, _please_! If you'd just eat the damn Berry Bar, you could—"

It wouldn't do him any good. Eevee tried one last time to attack, but his Tackle went straight through the Gastly. When his feet landed on the ground again, he didn't get up.

Considering how malevolent these ghosts were, Cyrus wouldn't put it past them to straight-up murder his Eevee. He frantically shoved his way past Renata's Torkoal to scoop Eevee's little body into his arms and frantically checked for a pulse. If Eevee died trying to protect him, he'd never be able to forgive himself!

He squeezed one of Eevee's feet and felt a stable pulse coming from his paw pad. The Pokémon's claws weakly curled around his finger. He wasn't dead: just unconscious. Cyrus let loose a loud sigh of relief and wasted no time calling Eevee back into his Poké Ball.

"Are you gonna call out your Golbat to help me? My Torkoal's—"

"Golbat's being a dick! He won't come out!" Golbat's ball was still on the ground: rolling around, but never opening up. Even when Cyrus pushed the button, nothing happened. He knew for a fact there was nothing wrong with the Poké Ball. Golbat was just being stubborn. "I'm so sorry! I don't have any other Pokémon!"

Renata grumbled something in Kinzonian: probably a profanity, judging from her tone. "It can't be helped, then! We'll use Lava Plume!"

The Torkoal understood the command and pounded all four of his feet into the earth. Within seconds, everything was illuminated in a warm orange glow as the catacomb transformed into a magma chamber. The ground shook, stones cracked, and one of the mattresses caught fire.

"Careful!" Cyrus called out, holding onto one of the nearby bunk beds so he didn't lose his balance. "You don't want this thing to COLLAPSE on us, do you!?"

The cracked walls were only the beginning of the Lava Plume's damage. When a blanket caught fire, it fell off the mattress and landed on top of the sewage puddle. The feces caught fire and blew up like a bomb. The explosion hurled excrement everywhere: coating everything in the room, including the trainers.

It hit the Gastly, too. The ignited waste seemed to do more damage than any of the other attacks. The fire spread to the Pokémon's gaseous body, setting it alight. As its body evaporated, the Gastly made one last awful sound: a high pitched squealing noise reminiscent of steam leaving a tea kettle.

"Did you just kill it!?" Cyrus asked Renata, a bit too afraid to come any closer. "I know Eevee fainted, but that Gastly—"

"ПОЧЕМУ ТЫ ПОРАНИЛ МОЕГО ПОКЕМОН!? Я ПРОСТО ХОТЕЛ ДРАТЬСЯ, КАК БОЛЬШОЙ МАЛЬЧИК!"

The black ghost's rage was palpable. When it shouted, everything from the floor to the ceiling trembled like it was on the verge of collapse. Entire stones broke off, tumbling to the floor in dusty chunks. Each piece of debris fell through the ghost's body, save for its metallic mask. Tiny chunks of gravel bounced off the golden face like little hailstones on a trash can lid.

With both arms outstretched, the creature lunged at Renata's Torkoal and wafted a noxious black smoke throughout the room. The smell was so putrid that no amount of willpower could stop Cyrus from throwing up. It smelled like wet mold, piss, and rotting meat.

Hoping to steady himself as he puked, he grabbed hold of a bunk's ladder and noticed he was only centimeters away from the germ-covered mattress he'd first noticed. Something cold and wet dripped on him. Even though he knew the liquid came from the corpse on the top bunk, he instinctively looked up.

From that lower angle, he spotted a thin trail of black smoke connecting the top bunk to the ghost. Even though it was stretching itself quite thin and clawed at Renata's Torkoal with all its might; it refused to completely leave the mattress. Whenever Renata backed up, the ghost tried to beckon her closer and shouted other angry words. The fact that this thing could talk and command other Pokémon led Cyrus to a rather bleak conclusion:

 _'We're not fighting a regular Pokémon. That thing's the dead kid on the top bunk!'_

"Hang in there!" Renata yelled, feeding her Torkoal a Berry Bar. "I think with another Lava Plume, I can—"

"NO! Don't do that! You nearly caused a cave-in last time!"

Shit! He had to think and think fast. Golbat wasn't cooperating and Eevee was out cold, so it wasn't like he could use either Pokémon. All he had were the things in his bag and whatever resources were around the room. His only lead was what happened to the Gastly. If _it_ could catch fire, then maybe—

"Well, what do you _want_ me to do?!"

"Distract it!" Cyrus reached in his pocket for his handkerchief. Less than a minute ago, he'd used it to wipe the shit off his face. He might as well put it to good use one last time. "I have an idea."

He dipped the edge of his handkerchief in a nearby pile of burning waste. Once the fabric caught fire, he stuck it on top of the corpse and prayed it was dry enough to combust. Luckily, the body wasn't too damp. The jacket started to burn and quickly spread like kindling. Some of the clothes went up without a hassle, while others melted and let loose some nasty chemical smells. As the incineration progressed, a faint hissing sound began to come from the ghost's body. It reminded Cyrus of steam leaving a rice cooker.

"НЕТ!"

Panicked by its new predicament, the ghost accidentally dropped its mask to the stony floor. It landed less than ten centimeters from Cyrus's feet and stared up at him. Just as he suspected, the metal face was that of a child: chubby cheeks, full lips, big eyes, and even a button nose. It would almost be cute if it wasn't so creepy.

"ПОЖАЛУЙСТА, НЕЕЕЕЕЕЕЕЕТ!"

Cyrus, Renata, and the Torkoal weren't even on its radar anymore. All it could focus on was the fact its beloved body was only a few seconds away from being incinerated. Its bewildered red eyes darted back and forth, trying to determine what it could salvage from the fire. When it looked down and realized it no longer had its mask, it began to freak out even more. It didn't just scream that time, but bawled like a frightened toddler.

Just to be on the safe side, Cyrus tucked his hands inside the sleeves of his coat before he picked up the mask. He'd watched enough horror movies to know how many ways this could go horribly wrong. Touching the mask with his bare skin was clearly a bad idea. Either it would be an open invitation for the ghost to possess him or the mask would try to burn its way over his face.

' _Or maybe I just met the goddamn Bout._ '

"Hey! Looking for this?" He held up the mask, trying to get the ghost's attention.

To his surprise, the thing didn't shriek at him or even try to attack. Instead, its red eyes grew big with surprise: clearly in shock that this stranger would dare to touch something so personal. "Пожалуйста..." Its left arm stretched toward Cyrus and made a pleading, grabby motion: like a little kid begging a bully to return a favorite toy. "мне нужно мое лицо..."

"You want it back?"

The ghost nodded its head nervously. Tear-like shapes appeared beneath its eyes, which were losing more brightness with each passing second. "Я не могу жить...без...моего лица..." He had no idea what it was saying, aside from _me_ and _I_ …not that he cared. This thing forfeited any empathy he may have felt for it when it hurt his Eevee.

The ghost whimpered like a scared little boy, but its cries were becoming increasingly muffled by the whistling steam sound. It pawed helplessly for the mask, pleading in its native language for Cyrus to give its face back, but it was too scared to leave the top bunk.

After the clothes were fully burned away, the flames gnawed into the body. All soft tissues were gobbled up by the fire; blackening and peeling back to expose the corpse's bones. As the cadaver burned, the mask became too hot for Cyrus to continue holding. When he smelled some of his coat's fabric start to melt; he dropped the mask and watched in morbid fascination as it began to change.

Even though the mask was metal, its "flesh" melted to match the corpse. The ghost became more transparent, the corpse became more skeletonized, and the mask's face changed into a skull. Its mouth opened, sucked the blackness back inside, and then evaporated until no trace of the creature remained. The only proof that thing had ever existed were the charred bones on the top bunk and the germ garden just beneath it.

Cyrus grabbed Renata's hand and darted out of the burning room. Once they were back into the supply area with the stone table and racist propaganda posters; he coughed, sputtered, and forced his trembling body to sit down at one of the makeshift chairs. "What…what _was_ that…?"

Just like him, Renata was covered in sewage and dirt. Unlike him, she didn't seem to be terribly shaken by what they just witnessed: just sad. "That was a Yamask. They're not like other Ghost Pokémon, Cyrus. They're—"

"Human?" Cyrus felt his stomach do a backflip before Renata even grunted an "mmhmm" at him. "I kind of figured that part out when it tried to talk." He still had no clue what it was trying to tell him, but he'd _definitely_ heard it say Professor Myrtle's name before it attacked. What the hell was that about?

Renata pulled out what was left of the mint lemonade and took a quick swig of it. Although her tone sounded relatively calm and like she'd seen Yamasks before, it wasn't lost on Cyrus that her hands were shaking. "When most people die, they're willing to let go of this world and see what comes next.

"Yamasks don't do that. They feel like their lives were cut too short and want to dwell on the past. They carry masks with their old faces on them so they don't forget who they used to be. The Yamask you found seemed to be emotionally attached to his old body, too. But listen…what happened in there…try not to let it get to you, okay?"

That was so much easier said than done. Now that it was all over, all the emotions Cyrus forbid himself to feel in that room were coming back with a vengeance. ' _That was a little boy,_ ' his mind reminded him. ' _And you killed his last chance to remember himself. Without it, he was nothing:_ _ **literally**_ _nothing…_ '

"Shit…" He couldn't stop shaking, nor could he stop the tears from welling up in his eyes. "If that tunnel had collapsed…if we never made it out of here, then we—"

"Ssssssssh." Renata pulled him into a big hug and reached up to stroke his hair. In all the chaos, his hood had come down and the top of his head was completely caked in filth. He could feel the old lady's mitten rub up there, probably getting Arceus-only-knows what on him. "That's not going to happen to you. Let's just take a moment to catch our breath, calm down, get some calories in us, and—"

"Renata?" He hated how weak he sounded, but he couldn't keep quiet. "I don't want to sound like I'm unappreciative, but can you please let go? You smell like a septic tank."

She let go, but her expression turned a tad sheepish after that. She awkwardly fumbled around in her bag to see if she'd packed any sanitary wipes to get at least some of the crap off their bodies, but Cyrus wasn't paying much attention to that. He swore he heard footsteps coming from the main tunnel.

A few seconds later, he heard a pair of voices. "Stop second-guessing my directions, asshole! I know where we are!" a female voice swore angrily. She sounded a bit familiar, but the cave's echo made her words a bit harder to parse. "My boyfriend and I used to look for Dusk Stones down here. We're close to an exit."

' _Is that—_ '

"Boyfriend? Bullshit, Natela. No one in their right mind would ever want to fuck you."

' _Shit_ …' Cyrus nudged Renata, trying not to make a sound. "Get the Abra," he whispered. It had finally dawned on him who those two people were and he wasn't ready to face them. "We need to go. _Now!_ "

"But my feet are—"

"GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOL!"

Despite the fact Golbat had left his trainer high and dry against the Yamask, he recognized those voices too. The man in the nearby tunnel murdered that Zubat he liked. He had neither forgotten, nor had he forgiven. Before Cyrus could stop him; the big blue bat forced his way out of his ball, out of the room, and charged into the hall with murderous intent.


	47. Golbat Out of Hell!

**Author's Notes: This chapter contains decomposing bodies, ghosts, gore, animal abuse, foul language, and Avdantil. Reader's discretion is advised.**

…

"GOLBAT, WAIT!"

Most bat Pokémon used echolocation to navigate their surroundings, so Golbat wasn't in any danger of getting lost. Cyrus couldn't say the same for himself. If he ever wanted to see the surface again, he needed to stick close to Renata. As important as that was, it was equally important to call his Pokémon back before it was too late.

Pushing the button on Golbat's Poké Ball did nothing but piss off the bat even further. Golbat glowered at his trainer and flapped his wings angrily. The more Cyrus tried to recall him, the louder the Pokémon hissed. Golbat finally decided he'd had enough and flew out of the bunker.

Cyrus frantically hurried after Golbat, even though his chest felt like it was going to burst open from sheer panic. ' _One turn_ ,' he told himself. ' _That's all I can make: one turn. If I do more than that, I'll never find my way back and I'll end up just like that dead boy._ '

As he ran, he searched for landmarks: any little thing to differentiate the walls from each other. Unfortunately, all he found were some spray-painted gang symbols, some loose items, and more discarded Poké Balls. Loose gravel didn't bother him, but the stray balls did. After what Renata told him an hour ago, he was afraid an angry ghost would pop out if he accidentally kicked one.

"Cyrus?"

Just hearing Renata's voice made him feel guilty for darting ahead. She would probably understand why he ran after his Golbat, but that didn't make abandoning her any less of a dick move. She was old and needed to rest! What if she collapsed and had a heart attack, just because she tried to catch up?!

"I know you're trying to find your Golbat; but could you please slow down? I'm…haaaah… _hoo_ …not as young…aaaah…as I used to be…"

"I'm so sorry!" Cyrus hoped he'd shouted that loud enough for Renata to find him. Just in case he hadn't, he flashed his light on and off to give her a signal. "I just want to find my Golbat before he gets lost!"

Golbat would have probably preferred that. He didn't even try to hide his hatred for his trainer. The most frustrating part was Golbat behaved for other people. He'd been good for Cynthia and the Pokémon Center nurses. The only two people who actively merited Golbat's wrath were Cyrus…and Avdantil.

Befriending Golbat already felt like a lost cause, but Cyrus hadn't given up on earning his Pokémon's respect. That obviously wouldn't happen today; but maybe they could work toward it tomorrow. He was getting ahead of himself, though. If any of that was going to happen, he'd need to find Golbat first. Then, he and Renata needed to leave the catacombs and return to the Trainers Lodge.

Renata finally caught up, panting and wheezing the whole time. Her poor head looked like a Tamato Berry with gray hair and a bright green scarf. "Phew! I nearly thought I lost you, dear! Good thing I managed to catch up, huh? So, where's your—"

"БЛЯДЬ! ДЕРЬМО! ЧЕРТ ВОЗЬМИ! ПОМОГИ МНЕ, НАТЕЛА!"

"…there," Cyrus grumbled, but a tiny smile was beginning to form on his lips. Judging from Avdantil's profane roars, Golbat wasn't going easy on him. "We don't have to run anymore, Renata. Golbat found what he wanted."

Another loud wail echoed through the cavern. Had it been anyone else, Cyrus would have wanted to run in the opposite direction as swiftly as his feet could carry him. But this was Avdantil, so those cries were sweet music to his ears: schadenfreude at its finest.

"Golbat's been looking for that guy since the Metro attack. His name is Avdantil. He's part of Team Sigma."

"Oh dear." Renata's voice had turned uncharacteristically hesitant: as though she worried she'd get someone else in trouble for asking a question. "Is this the boy who killed his Zubat? I was there when Cynthia reported him."

Very slowly, Cyrus nodded. He'd never forget the horrible squeaking cries Avdantil's Zubat made when he beat her…or how much she'd resembled hamburger meat by the time he finished. "He and his partner have been bothering us since Plumbum City."

"Why on earth are they doing that? Those people hardly ever bother foreigners."

"They want Cynthia's Spiritomb. In fact, I'm pretty sure that's why they bombed the train. With a strong enough EMP, nobody's Poké Balls would work. And even if someone was brave enough to fight them, they wouldn't be able to use anything other than whatever Pokémon were already out on the train.

"One of them fought Cynthia. The other one dragged me into a Battle Car and refused to let me out. I didn't have any trouble beating him; but when I did, he took his frustration out on his Pokémon. Did Cynthia show you the body?"

Renata didn't say anything, but she didn't have to. The look on her face was answer enough.

The ground was starting to feel loose, so Cyrus pointed the flashlight lower. There were stray pieces of dusty bone-colored gravel mixed with small reddish-brown puddles of a foul-smelling unidentifiable liquid. Some of the tunnels appeared to have the leftover decomposing remnants of the red roots he'd seen earlier. They had turned black from decay and withered until nothing but a filmy residue etched its shadow on the stone.

Earlier that afternoon, he would have pointed at the dead roots and tried to coax an explanation out of Renata—despite the fact she'd told him earlier that these things weren't here the last time she explored the catacombs. His hands would have trembled to the point of getting his flashlight to shake. They were doing that right now, but it wasn't from fear anymore. This time, it was just anger.

"Golbat was so upset that he evolved. When he did that, Avdantil left the car and locked me in."

Cyrus's hands shook even more, only steadying themselves again when another loud string of profanities exploded from deeper in the chamber. Whatever Golbat was doing to Avdantil, it must have seriously hurt.

"I want to hate Golbat for attacking me, but I don't. I understand why he's angry. He wanted revenge and I was too scared to give it to him."

"ЧЕРТ ПОБЕРИ! НАТЕЛА, МОЙ ГЛАЗ! Я ДУМАЮ, ЧТО ЭТО ПОЦАРАПАЛО МОЙ ГЛАЗ!"

Each time Avdantil's howls formed into words, Cyrus felt his heart beat faster. He wanted to get all of the fear out of his system before he approached Team Sigma. There could be no room for error this time, especially since Golbat was his only conscious Pokémon. Unless Golbat miraculously changed his mind and decided to listen to him, this wasn't a battle he could win.

Renata put a hand on Cyrus's shoulder and gave a tender squeeze for reassurance. "I have a hotheaded Pokémon, too. And there's a reason I left it back at the Trainers Lodge. In cases like these; the best thing you can do for your Pokémon is find it and let it know you support it. When we catch up to Golbat, let him call the shots."

"But what if he—"

"People like this boy don't change, Cyrus. They just get worse until someone—or something—stops them for good." She gave him a firm, yet supportive look. "And if he just so happens to get lost when your Golbat chases him…well, _I_ wouldn't lose any sleep over it."

Cyrus needed a moment to process what he'd just heard. Renata had always struck him as a kind, gentle, nurturing spirit without a single mean bone in her body. Either he'd misjudged her or he'd been stupidly naïve in thinking that. Of _course_ she'd have a dark side—everyone did—but hearing that much vitriol in her sweet voice caught him off guard. "You'd seriously be fine with it if Team Sigma died down here?"

Renata's brow furrowed and her mouth turned into a flat line. She obviously realized her words had come across a bit too harsh. "Now, I don't want you to think I'd say that about just anyone. I wouldn't." She took a deep breath and tried to let it out slowly, but ended up coughing instead. "But there's something you need to know about that boy before you face him.

"He comes from a town where people kill things for fun. And they don't just battle their Pokémon to the death, either. Some of them are crazy enough to put themselves in the arena against Ursarings, Abomasnows, and worse. The only person worth anything in that whole cesspool of a town is the Gym Leader, and George isn't even from there. This boy is a prime example of what you can expect in Ferrum Town, honey. It's a rotten place filled with rotten people who raise rotten kids. Turning him loose in the tunnels would be doing all of Kinzo a favor."

"Okay…if you say so…" That still didn't mean the idea sat well with him. Letting Golbat rip Avdantil to ribbons was one thing, but intentionally leaving him down here to die was a bit extreme. Cyrus hated this guy, but he didn't have it in him to intentionally send Avdantil to his death.

The tunnel they'd been walking down came to an end, only to reveal an entrance to two sub-levels of additional tunnels. "Golbat?" he called out, hoping his Pokémon hadn't gone down there. Much to his dismay, Golbat screeched loudly in response. "Why did you have to fly to— _ugh…guhrk_ … _reeehgh_ …"

As terrible as the bunker smelled, Cyrus could at least breathe in it. Whatever awaited him at the bottom of these steps smelled so atrocious that it sucked all the air out of his lungs and knocked him to his knees. Even though his hoodie was splattered with sewage, he stuck his mouth and nose beneath its collar. Somehow, that was a huge improvement.

In unison, he and Renata flashed their lights down the passageway. Nothing of interest was on the middle floor, but the entire bottom floor was coated in brownish sludge. He could also see light from another person's flashlight. "Go figure. He's all the way at the bottom!"

The raw sewage smell came back with a vengeance, probably because there were larger puddles of excrement and wet waste on the lowest level. Something new was there, though: stray bones and pieces of matted, bloodied fur from various decomposing Pokémon. The liquefying animals gave the chamber an almost cheesy smell: like the soft, white, bad-smelling stuff Cyrus's grandfather liked to spread on toast.

"Do you think we'll see more corpses?" Cyrus asked, making it abundantly clear that he hoped they wouldn't. Seeing one dead body was enough. If he never saw another one as long as he lived, he'd be grateful.

Renata never answered him, but she didn't have to. Her awkward silence was answer enough.

The most ironic part was that this fetid, murky chamber had much more memorable graffiti. Now that Cyrus no longer needed landmarks, they were everywhere. The upper tunnels only had random Kinzonian words spray-painted haphazardly with no purpose; but the bottom chamber was a treasure trove of gruesome urban art.

Less than five meters away was a well done parody of Francisco Goya's _Saturn Eating His Son_. Instead of the tall mythical titan was a giant mustachioed man in a military coat covered in war medals. The tin stars and silver circles were painted with something metallic so any flashlight "lucky" enough to see the mural would make them sparkle. The artist had also cleverly added some streaks of that paint into the man's graying hair.

Cyrus recognized the man because he'd seen that same face at the hospital. This portrait was far less flattering, but that was definitely the same man from the weird mural in the hall. He was also fairly sure the dead woman in this painting was supposed to be the same pretty blonde from the propaganda poster in the bunker. They were wearing the same dress, so that would make sense, but he couldn't prove that for certain because her head was gone and her body was covered in ugly blisters.

And right on top of this macabre masterpiece, someone had spray painted a message of their own: **У матери Кинзо лучевая болезнь!**

On the opposite wall was another mural of equal intrigue. Judging from the equally creepy content, it was also probably the same artist. The woman in the red dress was back, this time with her face covered by a mask made up of various international franchise logos. Cyrus wasn't familiar with some of them, but he definitely recognized the Silph Co. logo as well as the logos for Pokémon Centers, PokéMarts, and several fast food chains. The mask was slightly too small to cover the woman's entire face and what wasn't covered appeared to be skinned.

The mask smiled widely, with sutures holding the grin into place. One flayed hand was outstretched toward the viewer while the other held out a takeout bag for a famous Unovan burger chain. The woman's fingers were coated in blood from where she'd scratched her face. All around her was the same phrase repeated in various languages: international, traditional Sinnohan, Kalosian, Galarian, Kinzonian…

" **KALIUM CITY LOVES HER TOURISTS!** "

Just below the mural were several rusted cans of spray paint, a soggy bag covered in a white moldy film, and what looked to be a skeletonized arm sticking up from the goopy brown muck. Cyrus didn't want to get any closer, just in case his suspicions were correct and the rest of the corpse was just below the surface. The last thing he wanted right now was to provoke another Yamask.

Avdantil's screams were so close that Cyrus expected to see him as soon as they turned the next corner. He'd be brief about this, but he wanted to snap pictures of the graffiti so he could show Campanella later. If the art museum she'd taken him to included more stuff like this, maybe he would have wanted to stay longer.

It was a shame no one else could see these murals. They were so intriguingly gruesome that Cyrus wanted to take a moment to absorb everything he was seeing…but the gloppy "soup" in the tunnel went to above his ankles and there was no telling what was in it, let alone beneath it. He could cut his foot on a sharp object, get bitten by some diseased tunnel-dwelling creature, or who-knows-what.

The instant photo he took of the faceless woman came out rather well, but it was harder to get the cannibal dictator at a good angle. He backed up, only for Renata to nudge him. "I don't mean to be a nag, Cyrus; but I'd rather not stay in this muck any longer than we need to. Let's just catch up with your Golbat and—"

"GYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" There was a loud splash this time, along with the distinctive sound of Golbat's guttural snarls.

Cyrus picked up the pace, pulling Renata's hand so they didn't get separated in the tunnel. When he turned the corner, he spotted another flashlight and two silhouettes. One was a slightly overweight woman shaking her head and making frustrated gestures with her arms. The other was a man's shadow kicking and flailing as a flying creature attacked his face.

"Hey," he whispered to Renata, nudging her. "Golbat might not listen to me. Is it alright if I borrow Opal's Nosepass? I'll give it back." Without a word, he felt Renata slip the Poké Ball into his coat. "Thanks. I really owe you."

"You sure do," Renata grunted back, reaching for her Torkoal's ball. "Buy me a nice new pair of shoes when you beat Jet tomorrow and we'll call it even. I'm a size 35."

This was it, then: time to let Team Sigma know they were here. "Good job, Golbat. You found him."

Cyrus hoped he sounded calm enough to dupe Team Sigma into thinking he'd intentionally turned Golbat loose to track them down. Just beneath the surface, he was an anxious ball of nerves. Maybe there was enough shit and putrescence down here that they wouldn't sniff his fear on top of it.

The Gammas stopped what they were doing. Natela dropped something into the sludge and stared at Cyrus. At least, he _thought_ she was staring at him. It was kind of hard to tell with her greasy-looking bangs covering her eyes.

Avdantil's reaction was even harder to gauge because his entire face was in Golbat's mouth. He stopped flailing around for a couple of seconds, and then went back to digging his fingernails deep into Golbat's flesh. He was determined to draw blood.

As Cyrus approached them, he made sure each step was slow. He hoped Team Sigma would read it as him not being in any hurry, but he was actually trying not to step on anything sharp or questionable. There was no telling how many different types of flesh-eating bacteria were in the flooded floor.

Golbat's teeth sank into Avdantil's forehead and drew blood, mixing it in with his unruly dark curls. Cyrus couldn't see the damage done to Avdantil's face yet, but his Team Sigma jacket was pretty shredded up. Cyrus could see blood, too. That was good. It meant Avdantil would need to go to the hospital…and Cyrus knew from personal experience that Kalium General _sucked_.

"Gol?" Only the bottom half of Golbat's mouth moved because he refused to let go of his prey. He wasn't sure if he'd heard Cyrus correctly. Did he just tell him he'd done a good job?

That one syllable was enough time for Avdantil to pry Golbat off his head. His entire face was covered in scrapes and a crazed, deranged fire burned in his eyes when he saw Cyrus. "Что за черт!? That's _your_ Golbat!?"

"Yes, he is." Cyrus pulled a piece of medicine out for Golbat, hoping he'd take it. There were bruises on his body from where Avdantil fought back, and Cyrus wanted his Pokémon in top condition. There was no way this encounter _wouldn't_ end in a battle. "Golbat's wanted a piece of you since you left us in the Battle Car."

"Is that so?" Avdantil struggled to get back to his feet. Each time he held onto one of the limestone walls, Golbat swatted him with a wing or wrapped his body around his head so he couldn't see. Yet with every slap, he laughed hoarsely. "Let's not disappoint him, then. I'll call out another Pokémon and—"

"NO YOU WON'T!" Natela screeched. When she stomped her foot, some of the sewage splashed around. "WE NEED TO CONSERVE RESOURCES UNTIL WE'RE BACK ON THE SURFACE!" She folded her arms across her large chest and turned to face Cyrus. "Look, I know my partner got carried away in the Battle Car; but our mission has nothing to do with you! That girl you're traveling with has something we need. As soon as we have it, we'll leave you alone! Is she with you?"

"No." Cynthia was above ground, having the time of her life in the wax museum. She had no clue that Team Sigma had been beneath them this entire time, but that was going to change. As soon as he and Renata were back at the Lodge, Cyrus had every intention of telling her.

It seemed like failure wasn't an option for Team Sigma. They'd keep showing up until they died, got arrested, or took on a different mission. They weren't going to give up.

Natela growled and kicked her foot again, splashing her partner with some of the murky water. Avdantil snapped something at her when he got wet. "So it's really just you and the old woman, then? Greaaaaaaat…" Her hands moved to her hips and she leaned back, letting out a loud and overly dramatic groan. "Thanks!" she snapped sarcastically. "Talking to you was nothing but a waste of my time!"

"Let's scrap them, then," Avdantil suggested. He hurled a skull-sized rock at Cyrus and cackled when it hit the boy's shoulder. The blow nearly knocked him into the water. "This child is no challenge, Natela. When I battled him on the train, he screamed and cried like a little baby. I doubt he's toughened up since then."

Natela raised a thick eyebrow at her partner, a bit confused by his remark. "That 'baby' still beat you, didn't he? Don't try to act tough when all you have is your Bidoof. You won't win this and we still have to—"

"FUCK YOU, NATELA!" Avdantil's rage had reached the breaking point. The next time Golbat tried to chomp down on him, he banged the back of his head against the wall. The attack surprised Golbat enough for his mouth to go slack. Avdantil took that opportunity to break free and started trudging through the muck toward Cyrus. "THIS LITTLE BASTARD REPORTED ME TO THE POKÉMON CENTER!"

Technically, _Cynthia_ reported Avdantil; but correcting the man wouldn't calm him down or it make him any less eager to fight. At least he only had his Bidoof. That thing was easy to beat.

"YOU KNOW WHAT REPORT THAT COST ME, BASTARD? I LOST ALL MY POKÉMON! I HAD TO BREAK INTO THE HEAD NURSE'S OFFICE JUST TO GET MY BIDOOF BACK!"

Avdantil's saliva landed on Cyrus's face like hot rain; but he wasn't afraid anymore. Golbat may have hated him, but he hated Avdantil more.

Weirdly enough, Golbat hadn't hissed at him since they caught up. Instead, he waddled over to Cyrus's side and nudged him with his wing. He wasn't sure what Golbat wanted at first until the Pokémon pointed at his mouth for more medicine. Cyrus gave him another packet, which Golbat hastily poured down his throat. The bruises went away and he seemed to have more energy.

"Golbat?" Cyrus took a deep breath. "This decision is yours to make. Do you want to fight Team Sigma?"

"Hold on!" Natela squeaked. "I didn't agree to fight you! This is entirely between you and—"

"Baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat!" Golbat flapped his wings excitedly and splashed his feet in the sludge. It was the first time Cyrus had ever seen that Pokémon smile, and he was looking right at him! "Gol gol baaaaat!"

"We're in agreement, then. I want to fight, too."

Cyrus had never been bullied in school, but that was only because his classmates were nice kids who minded their own business. They were more inclined to leave a weird kid alone than actively torment him. Other than Alexander, Avdantil was the first person to ever be truly violent with him.

Dr. Plutarski once told Cyrus that he would meet his true self in Kinzo. Today, he'd discover that his true self could stand up for himself. Avdantil may have pushed him in the Battle Car, but Cyrus now felt brave enough to push back.

"Do you want to do this without me?" That question caught Golbat by surprise. The big bat stared at Cyrus as though he couldn't comprehend what he'd just heard. "I know how important this fight is to you. You have my help if you want it, but you don't need it."

That was a nicer, kinder way of phrasing what he actually thought. Cyrus overtrained his Pokémon so he could beat Simon. As a consequence, Golbat's level was so high that the Lead Badge had no effect on him. Until Cyrus got a Potassium Badge, there was no guarantee Golbat would even listen to him.

"Gol?" Golbat pointed at himself with a wing. "Bat?"

Cyrus forced out a small smile and gave his Pokémon a quick, reaffirming nod. "I trust you, Golbat. You've got this."

Golbat flew to the top of the tunnel, perched, and waited impatiently for Avdantil to call out his Pokémon. This was a fight he'd do alone, but with his trainer's blessing. He'd never looked happier.

Natela paced back and forth, occasionally muttering something in Kinzonian either to herself or to Renata. Both her hands were waving around in grandiose, frustrated gestures; but she'd made no indication she was reaching for a Poké Ball. "Это так глупо! Мальчики тупые!"

Whatever she said, Avdantil seemed used to hearing it. He rolled his eyes and pulled a dented Poké Ball out of his jacket. Last time they battled, he'd chucked it at the ground like most trainers. This time, he just pushed the button. "Come on, Bidoofus! Be a good comrade and win this for me!"

Avdantil's wall-eyed Bidoof landed in the water with a nasty splash. At first, Bidoofus floated because his wooly fur had little air pockets. As his fur became increasingly soaked, his body started to sink…until his mouth sank below the water line. The Bidoof lifted his head, but his mouth and nose were already covered in sewage. "Doo hoo hoo hoof?"

"GIVE HIM HELL, BIDOOFUS!" Avdantil roared, pumping a fist in the air. "RIP THAT GOLBAT APAAAAART!"

When Avdantil shouted, a dim red light appeared near the graffiti murals. All the blood in Cyrus's body ran cold because the last time he'd seen something like that, it was a Yamask. Just to make sure his eyes weren't playing tricks on him, he squinted to get a better look. Sure enough, there was a faint red glow and it blinked back at him.

This was bad news. He had to let everyone know! "Renata, there's—"

"BAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!" Golbat screeched loudly, flew to the cavern ceiling, and dive-bombed Bidoofus with both wings wide open. It was a perfect Wing Attack.

Cyrus was impressed and mildly horrified by the amount of damage the one attack did to the Bidoof. Bidoofus was covered in thick fur, but Golbat still managed to draw blood. If that Bidoof didn't leave these tunnels with some kind of infection, Cyrus would be surprised.

"Grrrrrrr!" Avdantil sounded like a feral Houndour when he growled. His whole body shook from a combination of disgust, anger, and cold. His teeth chattered as he wrapped his arms around his filthy body and tried to warm up. "ROLLOUT!"

With each shout, the red glow became a little bit brighter. By now, Cyrus wasn't the only one who noticed it. Renata's eyes were on the fight, but Natela caught on that something wasn't right. She had two Poké Balls in her hands, but seemed to be debating over which one would be best to use against this new threat. She nudged Renata, trying to get her attention.

Bidoofus landed a hit, but it didn't do much. The flooded terrain slowed down his momentum, so all Rollout managed to do was annoy Golbat. The big bat hissed and chomped down hard. Bidoofus squirmed and attempted to get away, but Golbat forced his head underwater.

"HEY! WAIT! THAT'S NOT FAIR!" Avdantil started coming closer, a hint of panic in his voice. "I DIDN'T AGREE TO A DEATH MATCH!"

Cyrus glared at Avdantil, but remained firm. "I didn't agree to one in the Battle Car; but that didn't stop you from doing it anyway. I fail to see how this is any different." He'd call Golbat back before Bidoofus drowned, but he wanted to teach this asshole a lesson. Maybe if he instilled a little fear in Avdantil, he'd think twice about harassing him in the future.

The Bidoof's frantic flailing began to slow down. He continued to wriggle around, but his limbs were flopping rather than thrashing. Avdantil let out a loud, ugly sob and charged at Golbat with a loose board he'd found in the water.

His attempt to save his Pokémon backfired. Golbat let go, but only because something he wanted to attack more than Bidoofus just made himself available again.

Bidoofus rolled over and took a deep breath before passing out, but Avdantil had a new problem. Golbat's wings, teeth, and feet were all locked onto his face and chest. He let loose a high-pitched shriek and began running around with no real way of knowing where his body was going. Cyrus heard him shout something, but Golbat's mouth and body muffled it quite well. The Pokémon continued to scratch him and gnaw on his head.

Avdantil must have thought he'd hit a tunnel wall and bash his head against the stone like he did last time; but he just kept running in a straight line toward the red glow. Things were about to get much, much worse for him.

"GET IT OFF ME!" Avdantil yowled. He was running around in circles, punching and scratching at Golbat in a feeble attempt to break free. "DON'T YOU KNOW THESE THINGS ARE POISONOUS?!"

"CALL YOUR GOLBAT BACK!" Natela screamed at Cyrus. She sounded terrified. "NOW!"

"Why?" Cyrus growled at her. "You know what he did, right? Thanks to him, I spent the past few days in—"

"I DON'T CARE! YOU'RE ABOUT TO HAVE A MUCH BIGGER PROBLEM THAN THE TWO OF US! LOOK!" Natela pointed a finger toward the far end of the chamber. When Cyrus turned around to see what Natela was pointing at, his blood ran cold.

Looking back at them from the shadowy depths was a pair of glowing red eyes. Just beneath them was another luminescent shape: a pale white crescent made entirely out of needle-sharp teeth.

"Golbat…?" Just seeing this thing filled Cyrus with dread. Whatever it was, it looked bigger and much meaner than the Yamask. "Let go. We need to leave…"

Golbat obeyed, but shot his trainer a disappointed look. Cyrus felt fairly certain he knew what those eyes were saying: _I thought you weren't going to interfere_. He frowned, feeling like he may have just let his Pokémon down. Again.

As soon as Avdantil was free again, he gasped for air and tried to wipe Golbat's venomous saliva off his face. "What's the matter, Natela?" he called out. "I had this under—"

A strong gust of rancid air blew into the chamber. Normal wind made a faint howling sound. This sounded more like a death rattle. Something alive—or at least formerly alive—launched this at them.

Before Cyrus could ask Renata what the hell this thing was, something jumped out of the water. It was black and semi-transparent, but wrapped around Avdantil's leg and yanked him back with surprising force. He landed face-first in the murky mess. Between his sputters and coughs, he screamed because he had no idea what just happened or what was pulling him closer.

Avdantil didn't see what grabbed him, but Cyrus did. Cozily nestled between the two murals was a coffin-shaped figure the size of an adult human. The light was bad, so he couldn't see how many "arms" were protruding from its shadow-like body; but there had to be at least four. One had grabbed Avdantil's left leg, while another had him by the neck.

Two bright red eyes gleamed from the ghost's face, as well as a smile made of those sharp, terrible teeth. When it noticed Cyrus was looking at it, the creature winked at him and opened its mouth. Bandage-like appendages slid out and began to wrap around Avdantil's struggling body.

"DON'T JUST STAND THERE!" Avdantil screamed as loud as he could. "HELP MEEEERGHhhhhhhfff…"

The fabric strips covered the Gamma's mouth and clamped down, making it impossible for Avdantil to make any noise other than muffled screams. His eyes were bulging and his whole face turned purple. Was it tied too tight? Could he even breathe?!

"What…what the…"

"CYRUS!" Renata shouted, hoping that would knock him out of his trance long enough to listen to her. "THAT'S A COFAGRIGUS: YAMASK'S EVOLVED FORM!"

"Dead people can _evolve_!?" Cyrus's eyes grew big in a combination of disbelief and horror. This thing may have been human once, but he doubted they'd be able to reason with it. "What's it doing to Avdantil?"

"Some Cofagriguses develop a taste for killing the living. They wrap people up, trap them in their bodies, and eat them."

Oh Arceus. This meant that if they did nothing, that thing was going to kill and consume Avdantil! Renata whispered that now would be a good time to leave, but she grabbed her Torkoal's ball out of her green coat.

Talk about a mixed message! Did she want him to agree with her or was she subtly trying to convince him to stay!?

"It's up to you whether or not we help these people, Cyrus. Do you want to?"

"Yes!" Cyrus didn't even hesitate. He'd probably regret helping Avdantil, but he had too much of a conscience to let this continue. "I know they're bad people, but I'd be even worse if I let them die down here!"

"Gol?" Golbat sounded well beyond disappointed. He wanted Avdantil dead and wasn't pleased with the prospect of having to rescue him. Cyrus couldn't fault him for being angry. This wasn't exactly an easy decision for him, either!

"Your name is Cyrus, right?" Natela tried to flag him down to get his attention. One arm was completely stuck in her beat-up travel bag. "Do you or the babushka have any Revives? My Pokémon fainted a while ago."

He couldn't believe what he was hearing! When he first heard Team Sigma in the catacombs, he'd been scared to approach them because all he had was Golbat. Then, irony of ironies, it turned out they'd been helpless this entire time! It would have been funny if he wasn't so frustrated! "No, Natela. I _don't_ have any. Even if I did, I'd use them on my—"

Before he could say _Eevee_ , Renata pulled out her bag. "How many Pokémon do you have?" Natela seemed surprised that Renata was willing to help her, but she held up two fingers. "Cyrus, do you want any medicine for your Eevee?"

"Would his attacks do any damage?" As much as Cyrus wanted to help Eevee, he'd been useless against the Gastly and Yamask. When Renata shook her head, he did the same.

Natela seemed fine with accepting help…until she realized Renata was offering her Revival Herbs and not Revives. Instead of healing her Pokémon with green herbs, she kept looking down at them in mild disgust.

Viewing this as some kind of snub, Cyrus gave her a disapproving look. "What's your problem? It's free medicine."

"I know…" Natela called her two Pokémon out, even though they were both completely out of it. Cyrus remembered the Combee, but this was his first time seeing her Purrloin. "But herbal medicine is bitter! If your Pokémon don't like the taste, they'll get mad at you! They might even stop being friendly altogether and start acting like…well…your Golbat."

As low a blow as that was, Cyrus didn't even try to argue. Golbat _was_ unfriendly.

Natela opened her mouth to say something else, but stopped when her partner stopped struggling and went limp. "To hell with it. Just fight that thing. I'll let you know when my Pokémon are ready."

"You heard her, Torkoal! Let's crank up the heat!"

Renata's Torkoal wasn't a fast Pokémon, but he wasted no time in getting close to Avdantil and the Cofagrigus. He waded through the muck, taking ample care to ensure the burning parts of his shell never went underwater. Lots of steam left his shell as he began to create a smokescreen. Once he was in position, he gave his trainer a confirming nod. He was ready for action.

"Um…Golbat?" Cyrus knew Golbat heard everything that was going on, but his Pokémon decided to perch on top of some rubble and clean himself instead. "We could really use your help right—" Golbat screeched and pointed one of his wings at Cyrus in a rude, accusatory gesture. "…now."

Shit. This wasn't going to end well. They were right back where they started.

Noticing that it had no shortage of new potential victims, the Cofagrigus dropped Avdantil's tied-up body near the masked woman mural and charged toward its opponents. It rushed past the Torkoal and decided instead to focus on Golbat. Its mouth opened again, but no bandages came out. Instead, four high-pitched humanoid voices merged together with the sound of scurrying insects to create a nightmarish laugh.

"Bite it!" Cyrus called out to Golbat. "If it's a Ghost, then it should be weak to Dark attacks!"

It was no use. Golbat waved him off as a nuisance and went back to preening. The Cofagrigus moved closer to him and opened up its body. Cyrus was weirdly reminded of a refrigerator, but the light inside was red and teeming with more black hands. The arms launched out and struck Golbat on all sides.

Even though the Cofagrigus was creating a network of bandages to wrap around his Golbat, Cyrus tried to hurry over to save him. The only thing that stopped him was Renata grabbing his sleeve. "Throwing yourself in the line of fire won't solve anything. You'll just get hurt! Torkoal, use Yawn! Try to put that Cofagrigus to sleep!"

Torkoal craned his neck back and let loose a big sleepy yawn. The Cofagrigus yawned back and briefly took a moment to dab at its right eye with a black appendage. Just as it seemed like it was going to nod off, it noticed Golbat trying to climb his way out of the water. The ghost began to channel some of its dark energy into a purplish-black orb.

Realizing that the Cofagrigus planned to throw that thing at Golbat, Cyrus tried to get his Pokémon's attention. "I know you're mad at me, but listen! It's about to hit you! Use—"

It was too late. When the Shadow Ball made impact, Golbat took a direct hit and fainted instantly. The Cofagrigus sent a torrent of bandages toward Golbat's body, but Cyrus managed to call him back before anything made contact. That was way too close!

Torkoal spun his entire body at the Cofagrigus, but he went right through it. The large ghost snickered a little at the failed attack and then closed its eyes. As it snored, the rattling sound of large bugs scurrying around its interior filled the chamber.

Cyrus switched Golbat out for the Nosepass he and Renata caught earlier. He didn't know what its health looked like, so he tried to get Natela's attention. She was waist deep in muck and doing her best to free Avdantil from the bandages with a pocketknife. "Do you have any non-herbal medicine?"

"Huh?"

"This isn't my Nosepass. It belongs to my friend's granddaughter." And the last thing he wanted to do was accidentally piss it off by giving it bitter medicine. "Even a Potion would help."

Natela didn't say anything, but she chucked a half-used Potion in Cyrus's general direction. She didn't even bother to aim for his arms. It fell half a meter away and splashed when it hit the water. If he wanted it, he'd have to stick both his hands in the sewage. ' _Gee, thanks. You're a real life saver,_ ' he thought sarcastically as he restored a measly 10 HP on Opal's Nosepass.

The Pokémon looked up at him and wiggled its red stone nose. It barely moved, but at least it seemed to be paying attention and grateful for the medicine.

"Okay, Nosepass. Here's the deal. That thing's a Ghost type, so let's try to boost your defenses. Do you have a move that can do that?" To his surprise, that seemed to work! Nosepass's blue stone body briefly sparkled and seemed to tighten. Whatever it did, it seemed pleased with itself.

Cyrus was just about to ask Natela if she'd finished healing her Pokémon, but then he saw the Cofagrigus briefly open its eyes. It shut them again and pretended to sleep, just so Renata's Torkoal could come closer to it. When the Torkoal was in range and ready to use Yawn again, Cofagrigus launched a surprise attack with another Shadow Ball.

Cyrus knew Nosepass was at a huge disadvantage. Ghosts could demolish most Psychic Pokémon, so their best bet would be to use Rock moves and just pray they worked. "How about a Rock attack?" Nosepass didn't do anything at first, which left Cyrus wondering if the Pokémon even heard him. "I mean, we're surrounded by rocks. Could you throw one, maybe?"

Oh, _could_ it! A big piece of limestone ripped itself off the tunnel wall and hurled itself at the Cofagrigus at the speed of an automobile. It made impact and knocked the ghost back a few meters. Part of the coffin cracked, causing some of the black fog on its interior to seep out.

It always struck Cyrus as odd that Normal and Fighting moves couldn't damage Ghost Pokémon while random objects could. A fist could go right through them, but apparently a rock could sucker-punch a ghost and actually hurt when it landed. Some parts of the world made zero sense to him.

"Look at that. You hit it." This wasn't his Pokémon, but he still wanted to encourage it. If Opal was anything like her grandmother, she loved to battle. Cyrus wanted that Nosepass to associate battles with praise and positive reinforcement. "That's more than my Golbat managed to do. You're doing great."

The Cofagrigus chucked another Shadow Ball at Renata's Torkoal. That poor Pokémon appeared to be on its last leg, which was bad news for Nosepass. If Natela's team was still too incapacitated to fight, then everyone would be counting on Cyrus and Nosepass to beat the Cofagrigus.

"Pssssst." Renata nudged him. "I have an idea. You won't like it, but Lava Plume—"

"NO! The last time you used that, the room nearly caved in!"

At least Nosepass seemed to have picked up on what it could do to help in this battle. It kept using its telekinetic powers to launch more rocks at the Cofagrigus, pelting it over and over again in the hopes of buying Torkoal more time.

"What else do you propose we do, then!?" Renata sounded worried. "Even though we helped that awful girl, she hasn't lifted a finger to help us! I just want—DARN IT! There he goes!" While they were arguing, the Cofagrigus knocked out her Torkoal with another Shadow Ball. "Young lady!"

Natela lifted her head, but ended up having to duck when Nosepass chucked another man-sized boulder at the Cofagrigus. Her Pokémon appeared to be waking up, but she was preoccupied with sawing the bandages off Avdantil's face so he could breathe. "Huh? What?"

"I'm out of Pokémon! If you don't help us fight this thing _right now_ , you and your friend will have to fend for yourselves!"

"Ugh. _Fine_." Natela nudged both of her Pokémon and forced them both to eat the last bit of the Revival Herbs. The Combee buzzed in protest, but her Purrloin seemed to like the taste. He smacked his lips so much that a long strand of sticky drool dribbled from his jaw. "Mr. Purrfect, use Gunk Shot."

' _Is she insane!? That's just as bad as Lava Plume!_ '

Cyrus frantically searched the tunnel for a large enough rock to stand above the water table. As soon as he found one, he grabbed Renata by the wrist and hurriedly tried to climb it so they'd be out of any immediate danger. Gunk Shot was one of the most poisonous moves a Pokémon could learn! Nosepass wouldn't take a lot of damage, but this could end badly for everyone if that Purrloin missed his target and polluted the water by mistake.

Luckily, Mr. Purrfect landed a perfect hit. The Cofagrigus twitched and jerked around as though it attended to vomit. It let loose a loud, pained shriek and then hurled some ghostly blue flames at the purple cat. Cyrus recognized it immediately because it looked just like the fire that burned his Eevee earlier. No amount of water or dirt could put it out.

"MREEEEEEE!" Mr. Purrfect yowled and tried to lick the flames off his body, but it didn't do any good.

"BEE-BEE! BUG BITE!"

Natela was quite efficient with commands. The only reason Cyrus wasn't was because he didn't know Nosepass's move set. "Um…keep throwing rocks?" He felt like an idiot for giving such a stupid command, but that was probably all Nosepass could do to buy itself more time. It barely seemed to be doing anything at all: annoying the Cofagrigus rather than hurting it.

Now that Torkoal was gone, the Cofagrigus turned its attention toward Nosepass. It only took one Shadow Ball to knock it out. Cyrus returned it immediately, getting Nosepass back in its ball before it went horizontal.

"Mr. Purrfect, Gunk Shot! Bee-Bee, Ominous Wind!"

Natela's Combee blew a dark, purplish torrent of energy at the Cofagrigus. For the first time since the battle started, an attack appeared to be super effective against the ghost. It shrieked and tried to make its body look larger by releasing more shadows. Additional arms came out of its coffin and threw the exact same attack back at Bee-Bee.

The Combee's victory was short lived. She could deal Ominous Wind, but she couldn't take a hit. When the attack made impact, it knocked her out.

"Give me the Revival Herb," Cyrus whispered to Renata. "I can use it on Golbat and—"

"GUNK SHOT!" Natela wasn't playing around, but neither was that Cofagrigus. It charged at her with eight black arms and a torrent of bandages, but Mr. Purrfect launched himself between his trainer and the ghost. The Gunk Shot not only hit its target, but did so at close range.

For a brief moment, all the air in the tunnel was too acrid to breathe. Everyone broke into a loud, painful coughing fit; but that was nothing compared to how the Cofagrigus responded. It screamed loud enough to wake the dead and opened its body. All its dark and shady bits hurried out of the core and scattered into the tunnel's depths.

Cyrus sputtered and tried to spit out all the poison. Once he regained his composure, he turned to Renata and gave her a quick smile. They'd done it! They defeated that horrid thing!

And yet when he turned to face Natela, she didn't seem to share his excitement. Her face had turned bright pink and her eyes were filled with tears. "NOOOOOO!" she bawled, giving her Purrloin a kick. "YOU WEREN'T SUPPOSED TO MAKE IT FAINT, STUPID! I WANTED TO CATCH IT!"

"…what?" Cyrus felt a heat burning in his chest, but it wasn't the poison. It was rage. "Was _that_ why you dragged your ass to help us!?" He seldom swore aloud. Profanity really only came out when he was angry, but Natela had definitely warranted it. Not only had her Pokémon used Gunk Shot in an environment that could have poisoned everyone; but she hadn't even bothered to help until he and Renata threatened to leave.

Natela sniffled for a little while longer, snorting the tears and snot back into her nose. When she finally regained her composure, she gave Cyrus a nasty grin. If Avdantil wasn't slipping in and out of consciousness, he'd have probably been proud of it.

"Get over yourselves," she jeered. "I didn't need to help you! Haven't you ever heard of the just-in-time methodology? I mean, _really_. Why drain my resources when you pretty much volunteered to exhaust yours first?"

Renata was rummaging around in her bag for something, but Cyrus wasn't paying attention to her. All he could think about was how massively he'd messed up. He should have just left these pieces of shit to rot! His blood pressure was rising because all he could think about was how badly he wanted to turn Golbat loose on Natela.

Natela walked closer, carrying Mr. Purrfect in her arms. The cat grinned nastily at Cyrus and swished his tail back and forth. "Here's how things are gonna play out, comrade. You're going to give me that bag and everything in it."

"Oh yeah?" Cyrus's hands clenched into tight fists. "And why the hell would we do that, Natela?"

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Natela fluttered her eyelashes at Cyrus. Maybe she thought it made her look sultry. It didn't. "Mr. Purrfect is the last Pokémon standing. He may have run out of Gunk Shots, but he also knows Yawn. I tried asking you nicely. If you and the babushka refuse to cooperate; then I'll just put you to sleep and—"

"FOUND IT!" Renata held up the Fast Ball containing Lulu's Abra and called the Pokémon out. "Hold my hand, honey! NOW!"

"Mr. Purrfect, Ya—"

"TELEPORT!"

The tunnel became illuminated with a greenish-gold glow. The extra light showed Cyrus that there were at least six other Yamasks less than twenty meters away. Some of them were contemplating whether or not it was worth it to confront Natela, but that was about to be Team Sigma's problem and not theirs.

The walls seemed to "glitch" as the stones rippled and warped. Every direction blurred together as everything was sucked into a spinning, glowing vortex. Cyrus felt like his body was being sucked into a vacuum, so he held tighter to Renata. Once his feet were no longer touching the ground, the floating sensation changed to something reminiscent of falling.

The abrupt change in g-forces rivaled a fast roller coaster and he felt his stomach do a backflip. The ordeal came to an abrupt end when the tunnels were replaced with daylight, concrete, and snow. Judging from the position of the sun and how much color was in the sky, they were dangerously close to curfew.

It took a moment for Cyrus to regain all his senses, but the first thing his ears picked up was the familiar sound of the black vans announcing that curfew was imminent. Next, he heard Renata cough. The abrupt change in temperature had hurt his lungs too, but he was more worried about her.

The next sense to fully return to him was his sight. The tunnels had been so dark that his eyes adjusted to the dimness. Suddenly being thrown into the bright and vibrant Kalium City sunset caused enough strain to hurt. He took slow, purposeful blinks in an attempt to adapt a bit quicker.

There was nothing quite like daylight to show him just how filthy he'd gotten. People were staring and covered their noses to avoid smelling him. Renata wasn't quite as dirty, but she wasted no time in pulling off her stockings and throwing them into a nearby trash bin. Her chubby legs were covered in varicose veins.

"I'd sell my soul for a hot shower right about now," she remarked. "But first things first, I suppose. Let's get indoors before we get in trouble. I'll call a tow truck to bring my car back once we're at the Lodge."

Right. The Lodge. Cyrus kept looking around for it, but couldn't find it anywhere. "Um…Renata? Where's the Lodge? All I can see is—oh goddammit!"

Lulu's Abra successfully teleported them out of the catacombs, but she'd also done what any other Abra would do. They weren't in front of the Trainers Lodge.

They were in front of the Pokémon Center.


	48. Luxray Mamas & Bully Breeds

"I feel quite Mareepish about this, Yulia. You know how easy it is to lose track of time in the Catacombs."

"They make watches that glow in the dark now. Maybe you should invest in one before you go spelunking again. My goodness, Renata! You and that boy could have gotten into so much trouble!"

Nurse Yulia had graciously offered to let both trainers spend the night at the Pokémon Center. According to her, she had to do this quite regularly. Tourists lost track of the time, bad weather made it difficult to find the Lodge, and so on. She always kept a few cots on hand, just in case.

"Cyrus?"

"Huh?" He lifted up his head at that. Eavesdropping was rude, so he hadn't paid much attention until he heard Renata call his name.

"Why don't you go ahead and take a shower, dear? I need to help Nurse Yulia with something."

"Sure. No problem." He suspected this was Renata's polite little way of asking him to leave the room, probably so she could talk to the Head Nurse about what they saw in the tunnels. That was fine. The places where his wet clothes re-dried were starting to itch, so a shower was top priority anyway. "I don't have anything to change into, though."

"Blissey can get you squared away," Nurse Yulia insisted. "Yoo hoo, Blissey!" She whistled for the portly pink Pokémon to come closer, but it didn't exactly seem thrilled to help.

Every Blissey Cyrus had ever seen before was happy, eager to help, and pretty much joy personified. Nurse Yulia's Blissey, on the other hand, stomped its feet on the tile with aggravated, angry little thumps. Each time its foot made a flapping noise on the tile, the Blissey muttered something under its breath; huffing and puffing the entire way.

"Uh…" What was wrong with it? Why wasn't it smiling? All it did was scowl at Cyrus with black agitated eyes as it held up a black mesh tote bag. Inside the bag were a towel, a washcloth, some disposable slippers, a bottle of disinfectant soap, and a set of rose pink surgical scrubs. "Thanks."

The Blissey made a nasty guttural noise at him: like a kid trying to suck up a wad of snot without opening her mouth. He followed the Pokémon down the hallway, not quite sure if she preferred small talk or silence. Just to be on the safe side, he decided to keep quiet. The Blissey opened the door to a room in the back and gestured for him to go inside.

Cyrus turned on the light to see a dingy tile bathroom with one wall of toilet stalls, one wall of sinks, and one wall of showerheads. The wall with the door had lockers and a place to sit, so he placed his things there. He thought the Blissey would leave him alone after that, but she didn't budge. Even when he started peeling his soggy boots off his feet, her fur just fluffed up and she made more gross noises. "What?"

"Sey." The Blissey dumped all the contents of the tote bag onto one of the benches and held the tote wide open.

"Do you want me to put my dirty clothes in—"

"Bliss! Bliss BLISS-ey!"

"What is your deal? Does Nurse Yulia feed you nothing but herbal medicine or something?" That comment apparently struck a nerve, though he was fairly certain anything he said would piss the Blissey off. She slapped his cheek, not that it hurt. It felt like being smacked by a pool noodle covered in fur.

He grumbled a few choice words under his breath as he stripped. Every last garment went into the tote bag. The only things he left out were the gadget he'd picked off the dead kid's bunk, his wallet, and his PokéStat. "I want them washed," he told Blissey as he surrendered the bag. "Not burned: _washed_. I can't afford to replace anything right now."

The day before he flew out of Sinnoh, he'd visited an army surplus store. As much as he didn't like talking to strangers, he struck up a conversation with the store owner and asked him what he recommended purchasing for an extended Kinzo expedition. Most of the things the man recommended—like an Arctic-grade thermal sleeping bag—were well outside of Cyrus's price range. However, he did end up investing in a nice pair of steel-toed, insulated, heavy-duty combat boots.

Those things were far from cheap. He planned to wear them until they fell apart, sewage water be damned.

The Blissey grumbled a little more and stomped out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. As soon as she was gone; Cyrus cranked the heat up as hot as it he could stand it and stood beneath the water.

It wasn't until he felt the hot water on his body that he realized just how cold he'd been underground. The warmth started on his skin, but sank all the way into his bones. He'd stopped coughing; his jaw no longer hurt from being clenched to avoid chattering his teeth; and all the pale parts of his body began to turn a healthier shade of pink.

Once he felt like he'd successfully vanquished any semblance of cold from his body, he grabbed the disinfectant soap and poured ample amounts of it on the washcloth. He nearly rubbed himself raw because he wanted to remove every microbe he'd potentially encountered underground. All the dirt, debris, and filth melted away and dripped down the shower grate. He just kept scrubbing until the only things he saw go down the drain were suds and clear water.

The Kalium Pokémon Center's towels were scratchy and smelled vaguely like Blissey fur and medicine, but Cyrus didn't care. It just felt good to be clean again. He just wished Nurse Yulia had given him some clean underwear to go beneath the scrubs. Going commando felt weird.

Right outside the bathroom was a vending machine filled with a multitude of Kinzonian junk food. Cyrus was a bit surprised by how loudly his stomach growled. Renata brought snacks for their expedition today, but the tunnels smelled so bad that Cyrus lost his appetite. Now his hunger was back with a vengeance.

' _I'm on a budget. I'll just buy whatever is cheapest_.'

Food-wise, his least expensive option was a chocolate bar with some kind of confetti-like cream on the inside. He couldn't read the wrapper well enough to make out what the cream was supposed to be: probably some kind of nougat or candied fruit. It only took one quick bite for him to realize this thing was chocolate-covered cheesecake. The different colors he'd seen on the package were sprinkles.

He had more concerns about the ominous-looking soda he'd purchased. It was a rich emerald color: much too dark to be something like sour apple. He wasn't quite sure what he'd expected, but licorice certainly wasn't it. The drink tasted vaguely of cough syrup, but in a good way...just not with cheesecake.

When he returned to the lobby, Nurse Yulia was right in the middle of pulling Eevee and Golbat's Poké Balls off a medical tray. "Your Pokémon are back to full health. I need to talk to you about your Eevee, though."

"Is there something wrong with him?" He couldn't get that mental image of that Gastly out of his head. Until Eevee fainted, he had been tormented with curses, hexes, and even some kind of haunted fire. He'd battled his heart out, but his attacks didn't even leave a mark. If he was angry because Cyrus couldn't protect him, then—

"Kid, he's _fine_. Watch this."

Nurse Yulia picked up Eevee's Poké Ball and set it neatly on the counter. As soon as her hand was off the ball, it rolled toward Cyrus and dropped into his hands. She picked it up two or three times, just to drive her point home. No matter where she put that Eevee, he'd roll his ball all the way across the surface just to get back to his trainer.

When the ball landed in Cyrus's hands the third time, the large nurse let loose a hoarse chuckle. Her voice was kind of throaty and low for a woman. "I think he was just as worried about you as you were about him. That little guy adores you."

"I have no idea why," Cyrus admitted, feeling his face turn hot. He didn't think he was cruel or abusive toward his Pokémon, but he was definitely strict. Eevee and Golbat adhered to a rather intense training regimen, didn't do much more than battle together, and Cyrus didn't exactly baby them. "He isn't even really my Pokémon. I'm borrowing him."

"Oh, I know. Professor Myrtle's Trainer ID is still showing up on that Poké Ball. See?" Nurse Yulia pointed toward part of the monitor. "We keep track of that in Kinzo, but don't worry. She left a note in the system indicating your Eevee's on loan. When I saw that, I couldn't believe it at first. Most Eevees don't build that close of a bond with their trainers, let alone a temporary one!"

"Is that so?" Even though Eevee's Poké Ball continued to wiggle in his hand, Cyrus was having a hard time believing this. Had he actually done something _right_ for once? If so, what on earth was it?

"Let me put it this way, kid. If that Eevee sleeps in the cot with you tonight, you'll probably wake up with an Umbreon."

Cyrus's eyes grew big when he heard that. Just to make sure this wasn't some kind of prank, he let Eevee out of his ball. Within seconds, the brown Pokémon pawed at his legs and tried to climb his way into Cyrus's arms. He wasn't exactly a Pokémon expert, but he at least knew that Espeons and Umbreons only occurred when Eevees built strong bonds with a trainer.

Sure, he'd been careful with Eevee; but he hadn't exactly bent over backwards to be nice to him, either. And yet that little fur ball had made up his mind that they were best friends. When that Yamask started harassing Cyrus, Eevee didn't even stop to worry about whether or not his attacks would do anything. All he wanted to do was protect his person.

He scooped Eevee into his arms and stroked his fur. The Pokémon cooed at him and licked his hand. "Do you have a videophone I can use? I'd like to tell Professor Myrtle what you just told me."

As much as he felt Professor Myrtle would be thrilled to hear her Eevee was happy, that wasn't the main reason Cyrus wanted to call her. She needed to know about the Yamask, as well as the fact a ghost in the Kalium Catacombs had called out her name. But before Cyrus did that, he needed to call Cynthia first. It was dark outside and he never came back to the Trainers Lodge. She'd probably begun to worry.

"Sure, kid. Follow me."

Nurse Yulia's office was a cramped, closet-sized room. While that was more than enough space for somebody Cyrus's size, Yulia was quite large. He had a hard time picturing her sitting at such a tiny desk. He adjusted the office chair for his height, sat down, and ended up having to tuck his legs beneath him for additional support. The chair was so old that Yulia's rump had squashed its cushion into a hard, useless, wafer-like patty.

"Thanks. I can take it from here." To his relief, Nurse Yulia closed the door to give him some extra privacy. He turned on the videophone, dialed the number for the Kalium Trainers Lodge, and quickly entered his room's extension so he wouldn't have to talk to the Lodge Owner. He'd already forgotten the guy's name.

As he waited for Cynthia to pick up, he took another swig of the green soda and tried to figure out what it could pair with that wouldn't murder his taste buds. The dial tone kept going. Maybe he'd caught her during dinner. If so, he could leave her a message on the answering machine. Just as he was about to hang up and try again later, the phone's video feature turned on.

"Hey!" Cynthia was wearing her black fuzzy bathrobe and nothing else. She usually wore her pajamas underneath it, but all Cyrus could see was wet hair and bare skin. At least she'd tied the robe close to her body and folded her arms to prevent any potential slippage. "What's up?"

"Were you in the shower?" When Cynthia nodded, Cyrus felt a surge of blood rush into his face from embarrassment. He tried to avert his eyes and groaned. "I'm sorry. This could have waited."

"We've been traveling together for…what? Almost a month now? I'm pretty sure you've seen me in my underwear before."

"I didn't mean to!" Their current suite had a bathroom, so he'd go in there to change in private. And if they had to change in the room, he deliberately turned his back to her and never peeked. That was common courtesy! "And…" Arceus. He was turning pink all over. She probably thought he was some kind of pervert. "I'm, uh…I'm trying not to—"

"Cyrus." Cynthia bit back a laugh. "When you travel as much as I do, you kind of get used to changing in front of other people. It's not that big of a deal. Honest."

This truly didn't seem to faze her, and that was a massive relief. Cyrus hadn't even realized how much tension his body was carrying until he felt it all ease up at once. "I'd still appreciate it if you didn't look at _me_ , though."

"Ha ha. Okay." The phone cord was wrapped around one of her fingers. She kept spinning it around to make more curly-cues with the wire. "So, uh…where are you? Isaac wanted to say hi at dinner, but I couldn't find you anywhere."

"Well…" Cyrus tried his best to focus more on the fact Eevee was on his lap than the fact Cynthia had uncrossed her arms. He glanced down at his Pokémon and scratched a spot behind Eevee's left ear. "That's because I never made it back to the Trainers Lodge."

It was amazing how quickly that girl's expression could change. Just a moment ago, she was laidback and getting cozy for the night. Hearing that her research partner might have missed curfew threw her into panic mode. Her gray eyes honed in and quickly noted that Cyrus wasn't wearing his hoodie and coat anymore. "Please tell me those aren't jail clothes. I swear, if you broke curfew—"

"I didn't." The whole point of this call was to let her know he was okay, not to scare her. "We spent more time in the Catacombs than Renata thought we would, though. When we got out, it was too late to make it back to the Lodge. We're spending the night at the Pokémon Center."

"Ooooooh. Okay!" Cynthia wiped her brow in relief, but now Cyrus could see a little past her collarbone. He coughed, hoping she'd readjust the robe. She thankfully caught on and cinched the garment shut. "I'm glad you told me that. For a moment, I thought I'd have to bail out three people out of jail instead of just one!"

"Bail out?" Cyrus had to repeat those words, just to make sure he heard her right. "What are you talking about?"

"Uuuuuuuugh." Cynthia planted her face in both hands and let loose a loud, frustrated groan. "Campanella did something really, _really_ stupid." That didn't tell him anything, so Cyrus waited for her to elaborate. "She punched a Gym Leader."

He knew it was in bad taste to laugh at that, but a little snicker left his throat anyway. If the other Kinzo Gym Leaders were anything like Simon, they were probably asking for it.

"I don't see what's so funny." No? Campanella punched a Gym Leader! How was that _not_ funny? "The police booked her on assault charges, not to mention property damage and being a public nuisance. She's lucky it was just the regular police and not the KSP! This could have ended very badly for her, especially since she's foreign!"

Alright. That was fair. The only things Cyrus knew about the Kinzo Secret Police were what Officer Kuznetsov told him in the last town. Campanella _was_ lucky. Had the KSP gotten involved in this, she could have ended up in a dumpster or the harbor! "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have laughed. She's probably in a lot of trouble…but really?" He couldn't let this part go. "A Gym Leader?"

"Yeeeeeeeeep. And Kai won't exactly have a lot of time to forget us before we face her, either. She's immediately after Jet."

"Oh." Shit. "That's not good."

"No kidding!" Some people had a habit of talking with their hands when they were excited. Go figure, Cynthia was one of those people. Now that she was good and riled up, she couldn't seem to make up her mind between keeping her arms around her body and throwing them up in frustration. "I mean, _you're_ probably fine, but—"

"Your robe's open."

"Tch!" Cynthia's entire face turned a bright Hoppip pink. She cleared her throat, folded the robe kimono-style across her chest, and tightened the sash. This time, she tied it into a tight bow just to spare herself from any future wardrobe malfunctions. "There. Are we good now?" Just to confirm; Cyrus gave her a quick, awkward thumbs-up. "Good."

"What are you going to do about Campanella?"

"Isn't it obvious? I need to bail her out! Before the police dragged her off, she told me where she stashed her interview money. I counted it, but I don't think it's enough to post bail. I'll probably have to pay whatever's left."

That didn't strike Cyrus as very fair. Campanella was their colleague; but he and Cynthia both knew better than to punch a member of the Kinzo League! What if Campanella lost her temper in other towns, and with more dangerous people?

It wasn't exactly like they were made of money, either. Maybe Cynthia could call her grandmother for emergency funds, but Cyrus didn't have that luxury. His mother had begrudgingly agreed to give him the year, but only if he could do it without any financial assistance. The moment he asked for money; it would mean Nichole was right, he was wrong, and he could kiss this expedition goodbye.

If Campanella continued to make trouble for herself, then Cyrus wasn't sure how economically viable it would be to keep her around. He wondered how Professor Myrtle would feel about this when she found out…assuming Cynthia hadn't already told her. She probably did.

"Do you need me to pitch in?" He seriously hoped the answer to that question was no. "I can, if you need me to. I just don't want to."

Cynthia's smile turned a bit more demure. "That's sweet of you, but don't feel like you have to. Did you and Renata find what you were looking for?"

"Mmhmm." It took forever, but little Opal Cordova now had a male, level 24 Nosepass with a Careful nature. That thing was a pain in the ass to catch, so Cyrus hoped the kid appreciated the gift. "I don't think you'd like the tunnels, though. They're disgusting."

He also saw a dead body and ran into a ghost, but he wasn't sure if Cynthia needed to know that. If today had been completely devoid of drama, maybe he would have told her. Bailing Campanella out of jail for doing something stupid felt a bit more urgent. Yamasks and corpses could wait.

"I kind of figured they would be. Renata didn't push you _too_ hard, did she? I'd hate for you to overexert yourself and end up in the hospital again."

"No. We took our time." At least, they had when he wasn't chasing after Golbat. "There's something you need to know, though. Team Sigma was down there."

This time, Cynthia didn't even try to smile. The look she shot Cyrus was one he'd only seen once: when she accidentally stepped in a pile of poo on the sidewalk. "Ugh! Did they see you?"

"I _battled_ them, Cynthia. Avdantil's pretty angry that you reported him to Nurse Yulia, too. He stole his Bidoof back."

"That poor thing." But it was clear something else was weighing on Cynthia's mind. She'd rubbed her bottom lip on her teeth so much that a piece of skin came loose. "Do they still want my Spiritomb?"

He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but all Cyrus could do was nod his head in confirmation. "I don't think they plan to ease up on you anytime soon. Natela said they need it."

"I was afraid of that…"

Cynthia turned around to look at the room's bay window. In the background, Cyrus could see her Spiritomb sitting on the windowsill. Blue and red lights flickered outside: either from a police car or an ambulance. Once the sirens blared, the Pokémon cackled like it was the best joke ever. That thing gave him the creeps; but he didn't want anything bad to happen to it, either.

"What were they doing in the tunnels, though? I'm guessing they're hiding from the KSP or something?"

Cyrus shrugged his shoulders because he honestly didn't know. "All I know is they're planning to walk the tunnels all the way to Hydrargyrum City. Maybe we'll get lucky and they'll get lost down there." He waited for Cynthia to tell him his joke wasn't funny, but she let out a deep breath and nodded her head in agreement. Apparently, she could make an exception in her strong moral compass so far as Team Sigma was concerned.

What followed next was a long, pregnant pause. Cynthia patted her hair dry with a towel and fidgeted around, occasionally turning her attention back toward her Spiritomb. Cyrus waited for her to say something; but the only noise he could hear were Eevee's soft, squeaky protests because he'd stopped scratching his ear.

"I'm, uh…" He wanted to at least end this call on a positive note. "I'm challenging Jet first thing tomorrow morning. Did you want to come, or—wait. I guess you can't. You have to bail out Campanella."

Cynthia cringed. "I'm sorry, Cyrus. I'd rather watch you, but I can't this time."

"It's okay. I get it." He just hoped he sounded more tired than disappointed. It really was fine if she couldn't attend. Eevee would be fine either way. The only reason he extended that invitation in the first place was because he hadn't had many opportunities to do stuff with just Cynthia since he left the hospital. He kind of wanted to. Well…that and he wanted her to see firsthand how Golbat behaved around him because she'd probably have a few suggestions on how to get him under control.

Even with that small placation, Cynthia's expression still seemed mildly guilty. She flashed a little apologetic smile, but then appeared to have a spark of inspiration. "Wait! I've got it! _I_ can't go, but there are a lot of people who have been dying to see you since you left the hospital! I can spread the word at the Lodge, if you want."

"Sure. That's fine."

Cyrus wasn't a very social person, so he preferred to do things alone or with a small group. Over the past couple of days, he'd spent most of his time with either Cynthia or Renata. Maybe it wasn't fair to give them all his attention when there were other people in the Lodge who liked him too.

He hadn't so much as said hello to Isaac and his friends since he left the hospital; and he kind of felt like a jerk for not doing that. It wasn't just the Kantonian group, either. There were that brother and sister pair he'd sometimes battled. Unless they'd left Kalium City after breakfast, they were still here.

So long as no one threw him a big party afterward, he'd be fine.

"I don't know how social I'll feel after Jet beats me, but it would be nice to see everyone." Something about his comment must have rubbed Cynthia the wrong way because she rolled her eyes. "What?"

A big, wicked smile spread on her pretty face. "I'll let you in on a little secret Kai told me at the museum. According to her, the odd-numbered Gym Leaders tend to be tougher than the even-numbered ones. You beat Simon on your first try, so the chances of Jet giving you any trouble are slim to none."

It wasn't so much Jet he was worried about. Rather, it was Golbat. Even though he had a type advantage against Fighting Pokémon, there was no guarantee he'd behave in that battle. For all he knew, Golbat would sit his butt down on the arena floor and do nothing—just to spite him.

"Besides," Cynthia continued, "you've had a rough few days. You're long overdue for a win." She winked at him and let loose a quick little laugh. "You've got this, I promise. And when we meet up after your battle, you can show me your cool new Potassium Badge. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect." Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be so bad after all. "Have a good night, Cynthia."

"You too. Bye!"

When the transmission cut off, Cyrus turned around just long enough to check the time on Nurse Yulia's big analog clock. It wasn't terribly late, not that it mattered. Professor Myrtle was even more of a Noctowl than he was.

Thinking that Myrtle might want to see her Eevee, he lifted the Pokémon's upper body and placed Eevee's front paws on the top of the desk. "Smile for the camera," he told him before giving his cream-colored scruff a quick ruffle. He could feel Eevee's little claws protrude from his back feet, toes curling into the fabric of the scrubs.

This time of day was always a gamble. There was a 50/50 chance that Professor Myrtle would answer the call in her lab coat and business clothes; or in some slinky negligee that was grossly inappropriate for a woman in her fifties. It always left Cyrus wondering what kind of people called that lab after dark—not that he wanted to ponder that too much because _ewww_.

"Why, hello there, stranger!" To his relief, the professor hadn't called it a night yet. The lab coat was off, but she hadn't changed out of her pink blouse or untied her hair from its tight ponytail. Not a strand was out of place. That, more than anything else, was a sign she still had all her wits about her. The night was young. "Long time no chat!"

"I'm sorry, Professor Myrtle. I know it's been a while."

Myrtle just shrugged her bony shoulders and chuckled. "Don't sweat it, kiddo. Kalium's one of my favorite cities because there's so much to do. I kind of expected you'd be too busy to call me as often as you used to. How's it going, though? Did you do anything fun today?"

"I'd say it was more interesting than fun," Cyrus admitted, "but at least you'll have some new PokéStat information from me tonight. I spent most of the day in the Kalium Catacombs."

"Ooooooh!" That seemed to pique her interest! The professor batted her eyes and scooted closer to the monitor. In fact, she'd scooted a bit _too_ close. For a moment, Cyrus couldn't see Myrtle's face: just her skinny chest and nearly non-existent bust. "There are all sorts of creepy crawlies down there! Did you catch anything good?"

"I caught a Nosepass, but it's a gift for somebody else. I'm not keeping it." He couldn't see what kind of face the professor made, but she went momentarily quiet. "I probably should have held onto it a little longer, huh? Maybe it would have helped me against Jet."

"Yeeeeeeeeah," Myrtle agreed. She'd finally realized Cyrus couldn't see her face, so she readjusted her office chair. "Come to think of it, I haven't seen _any_ Kinzo League activity from you since you fought Simon. Cynthia, either. Y'all really should get the molasses out of your asses and fight him soon. Next to Simon, Jet's a breeze!"

Yes. So Cynthia said.

"I'll do it first thing tomorrow morning." Cyrus had already made up his mind to do that, but maybe hearing it would put Myrtle's mind at ease. She seemed appreciative. "But back to the tunnels; I saw a body down there, not to mention a Yamask and a Cofagrigus."

He had the professor's undivided attention. Complete pandemonium was going on with a hoard of Eevees in the background, but she didn't even turn around to stop the chaos. Whatever Cyrus had to say, her full focus was on him. "Nasty fuckers, aren't they? Did they attack you?"

Cyrus gave a quick nod to confirm. "The Yamask was close to its corpse and tried to talk to me. I don't know a lot of Kinzonian, but it said your name." It also said something that sounded quite similar to "Eevee" a few times, which only unnerved him further. "Have you had other assistants, Professor?"

"Dozens," Myrtle answered without skipping a beat. She'd been in the middle of eating something when Cyrus called. It looked like Sitrus sorbet with some kind of blue glaze on it. She pointed her spoon at him and took another bite. "In fact, I've had so many that most of them have started to blur together. Why? Do you think that dead thing was one of my old assistants or something?"

"Maybe? I just know it said your name and got excited when it saw my Eevee."

"Hm…" The professor took a moment to think about that. "I don't just hire kids like you and Cynthia, you know. I give away Eevees to new trainers all the time. That ghost could have been anyone."

Cyrus just glanced down at the old PokéStat and frowned. There was probably no way he'd ever find out who that dead kid was. They'd remain anonymous and unclaimed forever: just rotting away in a lonely limbo for all eternity.

"What about Cynthia?" Myrtle piped up, trying to change the subject to something less gruesome. "She hasn't updated me on anything in nearly a week."

"Really?" That surprised him. He knew Cynthia had been under a lot of stress these past few days; but leaving their boss in the dark didn't sound like her usual responsible, dependable self. Maybe his injury had done more of a number on her than he'd originally thought. "What about Campanella?"

"Oh, _she_ calls me like clockwork. We chat every three days!"

As soon as Myrtle stopped paying attention to her meal, an Eevee snuck onto the table and lapped at the syrup. Cyrus was about to tell the professor what was going on, but she saw what was happening and scooped the Pokémon into her arms. She flicked its nose and held him down for some mandatory cuddling, even when the creature protested.

"She told me y'all were on that Metro train that got bombed," but there wasn't even a trace of worry in her voice. If anything, she sounded intrigued: like she expected Cyrus to catch her up on all the latest gossip. "That had to be neat."

" _Neat_ isn't exactly the word I'd use."

"No?" Myrtle held the Eevee in front of her and wiggled the creature's paws at the screen. It growled at her and nipped her wrist because it wanted to be put down. "The way Campanella tells it, y'all fought the bombers and she saved the day."

Again, that wasn't entirely accurate. Team Sigma attacked the train, he and Cynthia each fought a Gamma, and Campanella used her Raichu to restore the train's power until help arrived. "Did she tell you I was in the hospital for a few days? That's why I couldn't call you."

Myrtle's playful antics came to a screeching halt when she heard that. Her brown eyes tried to search Cyrus's body for any sign of injury, but she couldn't find any. "No, she didn't! Come to think of it, you do look kind of pale! What on earth happened?"

Telling Myrtle that he'd been hospitalized was one thing. He didn't feel quite as forthcoming about giving her the specifics. If Avdantil had beaten him up, that would be one thing. Reality was much more frustrating, especially because Professor Myrtle had specifically warned him that this exact scenario could happen. "If I tell you, you have to promise me something."

"Hmmm?" Myrtle took another big bite of her sorbet and sucked on it a bit. "And what might that be?"

"Please don't say you told me so. I already know you did."

This wasn't going to be an easy conversation. Even though Eevee licked his hand, Cyrus still felt like a ball of tensed-up nerves. At the end of the day, this woman was more than just an adult he wanted to impress. She was his employer: the very reason he'd come to Kinzo. Without her trust and constant endorsements, all of this could end. He didn't want to go home. Not yet.

It took him a moment to work up the courage to come clean about his screw-up, all because he had no idea how Myrtle would respond. Would she say she told him so? Would she yell? Maybe call him an idiot? He inhaled slowly, built up the oxygen in his lungs, and let it out. "I over-trained my Golbat. He attacked me on the train."

He'd expected Myrtle to explode, but she just sat there in silence for a while. He couldn't see her eyes because the fluorescent light from her lab was reflecting off her half-moon glasses, but he could tell she was looking right at him. Maybe she was in deep thought about how best to appropriately respond.

This was bad. Maybe he should have lied, or perhaps given her a half-truth. All he could do to diffuse the tension was reassure her that there would be no further delays in Kalium City. "But I'm out now. And if Jet's as easy as you say he is, I won't—"

Professor Myrtle held up a hand, making it all too obvious she wanted him to stop talking. She exhaled through her nose with enough force to cause her shoulders to go slack. It was a muted but quite visible sigh. "What the hell, Cyrus? That's an amateur's mistake! I thought you were smart enough to know better; especially since, well…I promised not to _say_ it, but…"

She told him so.

"I needed to beat Simon." It felt like a weak excuse, but it was true. It only took Cynthia two tries to defeat Simon. She was a more experienced trainer, but Cyrus wanted to match her pace. It was the only way he wouldn't feel like dead weight. "I knew it was a gamble, but… _tch_ …" He'd gone overboard and Golbat made sure he paid for such a foolish mistake. "I'm really sorry, Professor. I slowed us down."

Myrtle took a moment to put her Eevee back on the floor. When she sat up and looked at Cyrus again, she didn't appear to be angry: just disappointed. That was somehow even worse. "Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"No, ma'am. Go ahead." He may have said that, but his anxiety was kicking into overdrive.

"Zubats and Golbats aren't exactly known for being friendly; but neither are your other Pokémon. Murkrows have a reputation for being mischievous and mean-spirited, and don't even get me started on your Houndour! I can't even leave him unsupervised in the lab because he terrorizes my poor Eevees. I even had to take one of the babies to the Pokémon Center because he nearly ripped her tail off!"

Some of his classmates didn't feel comfortable battling his Houndour because it was too aggressive, but he'd always stopped when Cyrus told him to stop. The same rang true for Murkrow. They weren't as friendly as Eevee, but they weren't bloodthirsty monsters either! "He…h-he did?"

Myrtle nodded her head slowly and hummed out a far-from-happy _mmhmm_. "Did you know I looked you up when I reviewed your application? I didn't have to do that for Cynthia because Professor Rowan and Professor Juniper endorsed her. Hiring that kid was a no-brainer: an obvious first choice."

If Cyrus had been in Professor Myrtle's situation, he probably would have chosen Cynthia first, too. That didn't make it any less annoying to be compared to her.

"You, though?" Myrtle snorted a laugh, but there wasn't any humor to it; just spite. "There wasn't as much about you. Dr. Plutarski wrote that lovely recommendation letter, but I'd never heard of you. I pulled your trainer file, but you only challenged one Pokémon Gym—and that was five years ago! Your academic profile was impressive, but it told me nothing about what sort of trainer you'd be. Whiz kids who can't battle don't last long here, so I dug a little deeper and looked up your parents."

All Cyrus could do was inhale and exhale, hoping that would be enough to stop his body from shaking. There was no telling what Myrtle found, especially since she'd dropped the friendly act. Her magenta fingernails clacked against the desktop and her eyes narrowed into a pair of accusatory brown slits.

"Like you, there was next to nothing on your mother. She doesn't have any badges and the only Pokémon on file is a Metang she's registered as an emotional support companion. I also saw that she went to a fancy genius school and graduated college early; so that kind of answered my questions about why you stopped after you beat the Oreburgh Gym. Your mother's a Luxray Mama; isn't she?"

That wasn't an endearing term. Luxray Mamas were the sort of parents who accepted nothing short of perfection, withheld affection when their children disappointed them, made sure every spare second of free time was devoted to studying and academics and—okay. It was rude, but it was true. Cyrus slowly nodded his head because he could still hear Nichole's _that's nice, dear_ in the back of his head.

"A smart mother doesn't always equate to a smart son, so I pulled your dad's file…and I was blown away. Do you know how many regions he's challenged?"

"No, ma'am. We, um…I try to avoid talking to him if I can help it." Cyrus wanted to impress Nichole, but he just wanted to put as much distance between Alexander and himself as possible. "We don't exactly get along."

"Hmm. Interesting." Myrtle took a few more bites of her sorbet and let it melt in her mouth before she swallowed. When she did, her lips puckered as though she planned to blow a sarcastic kiss. "Well, for what it's worth, your dad's nothing short of a force of nature. I forgot how many regions he's challenged, but it was more than ten and he's completed at least one."

If Professor Myrtle thought this information would shock Cyrus, it didn't. His dad grew up in a military household and moved around a lot as a boy. Alexander channeled all his frustration into Pokémon battles and he was quite skilled. The only reason he didn't want Cyrus to leave home and do the same was because Nichole shut down around anything remotely violent. They couldn't even practice battle in the back yard because it would trigger a panic attack.

"Your grades were only part of the reason I hired you. Your father's trainer profile sealed the deal because it told me that if you were anything like him, you'd have no trouble keeping up with Cynthia. The only thing I worried about was his obvious preference for bully breeds. His Houndoom put somebody in the hospital a few years ago and that Aggron…oh sweet _Celebi_ …"

Myrtle took off her glasses so she could rub her eyes. Her makeup smeared when she did that, but it was too late in the day for her to give a shit. When she looked up at Cyrus again, he could tell whatever she said next would be the real question she wanted to ask him. Whatever it was, it was really going to hurt.

"I can't help but notice you're following a similar trend. Your father can control his bully breeds because he has a full set of badges. You don't. Most over-trained Pokémon disrespect their trainers by ignoring their commands, but your Golbat hates you enough to outright attack you. Did you even try to bond with it, or were you so obsessed with beating Simon that all you did was train it?"

He didn't understand. When Golbat was still a Zubat, he seemed to enjoy the battles. Every time he won, he'd squeak and fly around the room. Cyrus took him in for routine checkups, kept him on a healthy diet, and even told him when he'd done a good job.

From everything he'd read, he'd followed the trainer's guide to a tee. He'd just taken a gamble and assumed that he'd bonded well enough with Zubat that the over-training wouldn't be an issue. Until Guano Lisa died, Golbat never showed any signs of being unhappy. "I'm not cruel to my Pokémon, Professor. Golbat's just angry because—"

"I don't need to hear an excuse, Cyrus. I don't care. I just want you to tell me whether or not my Eevee's safe around you."

Of all the damning things she could have said, Myrtle went with the nuclear option. _Nothing_ could have hurt as much as that accusation. Cyrus was too taken aback to even form words. All he could do was wrap his arms around the Pokémon in his lap. He wished Nurse Yulia was in the room, just so she could tell this woman all the encouraging things she'd told him. Once again, he tried to steady his breaths, but his face was turning hot from shame.

Professor Myrtle had made him out to sound like an abusive monster, and he wasn't! He sincerely wanted to repair his damaged relationship with his Golbat and learn from that mistake. When Murkrow and Houndour came out of quarantine, he'd take extra special care of them—especially since they weren't friendly breeds. Even then, he wanted to tell Myrtle that his Pokémon liked him. Houndour protected him around town and Murkrow kept bringing treasures back to his room. They wouldn't do that if they hated him, would they?!

"Can…" It felt like he was trying to force words out with a throat full of gravel. It hurt, and his airway felt like it wanted to close up. "…I see them? I'd…like to talk to them…"

Professor Myrtle's face may as well have been made out of stone. She was too annoyed to be swayed by anything he said or did. "You haven't earned that right yet," she growled. "Get your shit together, beat that Gym Leader, and get to Hydrargyrum City before I do. You've got three days, Cyrus. If you keep me waiting any longer than that, you're going home. End of discussion."

Even after the transmission cut off, Cyrus couldn't bring himself to get out of the seat. He heard Renata lightly tap her knuckles to the door and ask if everything was alright in there, but he was too stunned to answer her. Even after she entered the office and tried to ask him what was wrong, no words came out.

The only thing that did was a weak, pitiful whine.


	49. Golbat Goes On Strike

**Author's Note: If you are interested in seeing the real-life building that inspired the appearance of the Kalium City Gym, look up the Odessa Theatre of Opera and Ballet. And if you would like to do full immersion once you get to the battle and listen to some mood music, look up the Latvian disco group "Eolika" on YouTube. I had their song "Karavana" on full blast.**

 **…**

"Three days, huh?"

"…yeah."

Those two words kept echoing in Cyrus's head. ' _Three days…I only have three more days…_ ' If he couldn't defeat this Gym Leader and make it to Hydrargyrum City by that deadline, Professor Myrtle would pull him off the study.

In a best case scenario, Myrtle would fly him back to Sunyshore City. The moment he left the airport, his parents would be there and raise hell. Nichole would be in full-fledged _I told you so_ mode; and Alexander would probably threaten to beat him to a pulp. This went far beyond forging a signature or lying to avoid attending a school event. He'd run away to a dangerous foreign country with no real plan beyond "work for the regional professor." It was the most reckless thing he'd ever done, and they'd probably never forgive him.

But things could still be worse. Myrtle could always void his work visa _without_ sending him home. If she did that, she'd likely report Cyrus to the KSP and inform them that he no longer had any legal reason to be in Kinzo. He had no idea what those people were capable of; just that they were the stuff of nightmares.

He honestly didn't know what to do. Did Kalium City have a Sinnohan consulate? If not; did he need to make a day trip to another city and have a member of the Sinnohan embassy walk him through how to get a tourist visa? Most countries affiliated with the International Pokémon League didn't require a visa, so long as a trainer had an IPL Passport. He had one, but Kinzo was a special breed of paranoid. They required a visa.

If Myrtle pulled the plug on his contract, Cyrus would need that new paperwork ASAP. Cynthia probably would, too. There was just one problem: the Kalium Metro stations were still closed off. Even if the police reopened them, the city only had two stations: the Pokémon Center and Katarina Square.

"Does that apply to you and Cynthia both, or just you?"

"I don't know. I wouldn't be surprised either way." Cynthia was busy this morning, but Cyrus planned to tell her what happened later in the afternoon. If Myrtle's ultimatum applied to him; then it was safe to assume it applied to Cynthia, too. They couldn't waste any more time in Kalium City. Time was of the essence.

At least Renata was willing to drive him to the Kalium Gym. She'd called a towing service to move her roadster to the Pokémon Center parking lot last night, so the cute little car was right there waiting for them. The roads were relatively clear, but only because rush hour wouldn't be for another hour. Kalium City woke up at daybreak, but it wouldn't truly come to life until an hour after. "Renata?"

"Yes, dear?"

"Do you think I'm a bad trainer?"

He didn't know how to feel. Nurse Yulia thought he'd done a great job with Eevee, but Professor Myrtle read him the riot act about his other Pokémon. Houndour attacked one of her Eevees, Murkrow wasn't terribly friendly either, and Golbat was out of control. Every Pokémon registered under Cyrus's Trainer ID was a bully breed, and he hadn't realized that until the professor pointed it out.

She'd made him sound like one of those abusive, cruel trainers who only viewed their Pokémon as tools. That wasn't what he wanted to be. He wasn't as chummy with his team as Cynthia was with hers, but there was a big difference between being firm and being mean. Did he need to ease up on them? Play with them more, maybe?

He just kept watching Eevee. The Pokémon's front paws and nose were glued to the passenger window because he wanted to see all the early-bird trainers walking their Pokémon. Each time he spotted another Eevee, he'd bark excitedly and swish his tail. He was oblivious to the fact his temporary trainer was on the verge of an existential crisis, or that his tail kept smacking Cyrus in the face.

"No, dear. I don't." Renata stopped the car and waited for the light to turn green. The most annoying part was that no cars were going in the opposite direction. "And if you think your Eevee is an outlier, I saw how you handled Opal's Nosepass. It was a fresh catch, but it listened to you because you respected it."

"But Golbat—"

"Some Pokémon are more difficult to deal with than others. It's just a fact of life." When the light changed, she still drove slowly. As chatty as she'd been in the Catacombs, she was much quieter today. "I can tell you what I'd do in your situation, if you think that will help."

Renata had proven to be a great trainer. She handled her Torkoal like a master and seemed to have a strong, unbreakable bond with it. They worked together like two parts of a well-maintained machine. That was the sort of relationship Cyrus wanted with his Pokémon. Friendship would be great, but he wanted their respect and trust more than anything else. "That would be helpful."

"Well…" She took another side road and merged onto the highway. Most of the other vehicles were cargo trucks, school busses, and emergency vehicles; but Cyrus saw a few early-bird commuters. They weren't the only ones. "Seeing as Golbat's the only Pokémon in your party with a type advantage over Jet's team, I would at least hold onto him until I earned a Potassium Badge."

Yes. He was thinking about doing the same.

"Next, I would have a heart to heart with Golbat about my concerns regarding his behavior. It's important that you tell him how you feel, but he needs a chance to show you how he feels too. After that, I'd ask him if he still wanted to be my Pokémon. If he doesn't, I would take him back to Plumbum City and put him back where I found him. That way, he could go home with the knowledge that while we never saw eye to eye, I still respected him as another living being."

It made sense, but that didn't make it any easier to hear. Golbat was the first Pokémon he'd caught in Kinzo and they used to have a good relationship. But now things had gone so far off kilter that repairing that bond would take nothing short of a miracle. Returning him to the wild would mean more than just saying goodbye. It would mean he'd given up.

Sensing that her answer had only ruined her young friend's mood, Renata turned off the radio and cleared her throat. "I know that wasn't what you wanted to hear; but you can't please everyone. There are just some people and Pokémon you'll never be able to place, no matter how hard you try. It's just a fact of life."

Cyrus absentmindedly kept petting Eevee's fur with one hand, but his other hand stroked the metallic surface of Golbat's ball.

The roads began to change. Most of Kalium City was nothing but concrete, asphalt, and industrial lights. This district had old stone roads, beautiful limestone buildings hearkening back to the days of Kinzo's imperial era, and plenty of statues. This had to be Katarina Square: the remnants of the old city Renata mentioned yesterday.

If they weren't on a time crunch, he knew Cynthia would love to explore those streets and look for a history museum. Maybe later, once things calmed down and they were back in Professor Myrtle's good graces, they could do that. For now, it was too risky.

The most impressive thing in the square was a massive set of outdoor stairs. They were as wide as a street and seemed to stretch all the way to the point where the earth met the sky. From the ground level, Cyrus couldn't see any landings: just rows upon rows of stone steps.

To the left and right, most of what he saw were clunky-looking RVs, food trucks, and mostly naked trees attempting to blossom for the first days of spring. A bit higher up were some kitschy shops that sold cheap tchotchkes as souvenirs. Cyrus could barely make out what was at the very top: just the roof of an old limestone building and some fountains.

Renata pulled over to park the car and shot Cyrus one last warm smile. "These are the Zykova Stairs. To get to the Kalium Gym, all you have to do is walk to the very top and go into the big yellow building. There's a statue of Katarina the Incredible to the left of it. You can't miss it."

"You're not coming?" When the old lady shook her head, Cyrus frowned in disappointment. "Is it the stairs?"

She reached over to touch his hair, gently stroking it out of his face. "That's part of it, but no. I actually beat Jet a few days ago."

Renata was a good trainer, so it didn't surprise him to hear she'd battled Jet already. What did surprise him was that she hadn't hurried off to Hydrargyrum City to challenge Kai yet. He suspected he knew why, and he felt guilty for even asking. "Did you stay here just to take care of me?" He just needed to know for sure.

"Yes, dear. I did." She opened her bag and presented him with the last of the supplies they hadn't used yesterday: one mint lemonade and a six-pack of berry bars. "And I don't regret doing that. You were in very bad shape. If I'd moved ahead without checking in on you, I would have spent the whole time wondering how you were doing. But listen…"

Her thumb brushed up against his cheek and she leaned in to give his forehead a quick kiss. "This goodbye is only for now, not forever. We'll see each other again soon. Until then, take care of yourself and give that Abra back to Lulu. Alright?"

"…alright." He'd nearly choked on the word. Not wanting to make this any more awkward than it already was, Cyrus grabbed his bag and began the arduous task of walking up the Zykova Stairs. He turned around only long enough to watch that little red car zip off toward the harbor. ' _Goodbye, Renata. Thanks for everything._ '

The air was so cold that his lungs slightly hurt. Although he could see a few green buds on the nearby trees, the stairs were still covered in half-thawed snow and ice. Each step needed to be slow, deliberate, and cautious—especially in places where somebody's large Pokémon had walked. Whatever made those gargantuan paw prints crushed the snow until nothing but a thin layer of ice remained.

' _It's almost April,_ ' Cyrus realized. ' _March 28, to be specific._ _Half of Sinnoh is probably covered in pollen by now. If Kinzonian spring looks like this, then I wonder how bad the winters are._ '

Not many people were on the Zykova Stairs: just a few businessmen with briefcases headed to their jobs and a small gang of middle school girls with matching head scarves and lunch pails. One of them waved at him in an attempt to be friendly, but turned pink and hurriedly walked off when he awkwardly waved back. Her little friends giggled, scolding her for saluting a stranger.

Eevee bounced from one flat patch to the next, trying his best not to slip and slide when his paws lost traction. He twitched his tail in amusement, cheerily chirping _vee vee_ under his breath. The only problem was the stairs were too steep for him to easily climb. He had to jump, and he sometimes lost his balance.

After watching his Pokémon fall on his face a second time, Cyrus stopped walking and cleared his throat. "Do you want me to pick you up? I'm sure your feet are cold and—whoa!" He'd expected Eevee to sit still and patiently wait to be picked up; not jump into his arms! The Pokémon wiggled and distorted his furry body until he found a comfortable position. Once he did, he proceeded to lick Cyrus's cheek. "You're in a good mood."

"Vee!"

"I'm glad." And at present, he was grateful at least one of his Pokémon seemed to like him. "I'm counting on you to do something dangerous today. You're going up against an opponent who exclusively trains Fighting Pokémon. You're a Normal type, so you're fighting with a major disadvantage."

That didn't seem to deter the Pokémon. If anything, Eevee's dark eyes burned with even more ambition. "Vee vee!"

Eevee understood more than Cyrus realized. He knew his trainer had suffered these past few days, and he felt guilty for being unable to do much more than keep him company. He wanted to tell Cyrus that he'd be happy so long as they were together, but that boy didn't speak his language.

"I'm hoping I won't have to use you at all. If I can get Golbat to behave—"

"Eevee."

"I know. He won't." Cyrus could feel Eevee's furry face nuzzle his ear. It tickled. "Thanks for listening to me. You've been a big help these past few days." And if Eevee ended up evolving, he'd address that with Professor Myrtle at a later time. "But if you could evolve into an Espeon _right now_ , that would be—wait…"

At the very top of the stairs were three familiar faces. He hadn't said so much as a word to Isaac, Eric, or Lulu in nearly a week; but there they were.

"Hey, Cyrus!" Isaac called out, waving gleefully. "Cynthia told us you were battling Jet today. We're here to offer our support!" He held out his arms for a hug, but Cyrus just stared at him. He sincerely hoped Isaac wouldn't try to force this. After a few awkward seconds, the freckled college boy finally got the message and put his arms back down.

Eric snorted out a laugh at his friend's expense and pushed him out of the way. "Are you gonna pull the same trick you pulled on Simon? That was awesome!"

"Unless something in Jet's team knows Destiny Bond, I don't think I'll need to."

"You're good. Nothing does." Lulu stepped forward, bony hands cupping a thermos. The top was off and Cyrus could see the steam seeping out of it, as well as smell what was obviously coffee. "If you're curious, I can tell you exactly what's in Jet's lineup. Levels, Moves, Hidden Abilities: the works. But first…" She held out her right hand expectantly. "I need my Abra back. She doesn't battle."

"She's not very bright, either," Cyrus grumbled as he pulled Abra's ball out of his bag. Lulu raised one of her eyebrows at him for that remark. "She teleported us to the Pokémon Center instead of the Trainers Lodge. If the Head Nurse hadn't let us spend the night, Renata and I would have missed curfew."

Lulu glanced down at her orange ball and then back up at Cyrus. "I don't think that was Abra's fault."

"No?"

The girl took a deep breath and let it out loudly. "Let me ask you something. Did you or Renata specifically tell her to take you to the Trainers Lodge?"

He needed a moment to think. As soon as Natela threatened them, Renata wasted no time in calling Abra out. The moment she saw the Pokémon, she told it to use Teleport and—well, shit. "No…"

"Let me fill you in on something, Cyrus. Abras are Psychic Pokémon, but they aren't mind readers. You have to tell them exactly where you want to go or they'll just take you somewhere they know is safe: like a Pokémon Center." Lulu rubbed some of the dirt off the ball to get it nice and polished, and then stuffed it deep inside her pocket. "It's not that big of a deal, though. I used to make the same mistake. But I digress. Do you want my help or not?"

The last time Cyrus interacted with Lulu was on the Metro. She'd been compiling stats on the other trainers and asked if she could study his team. He'd declined then, but he couldn't afford to be proud or shy today. Professor Myrtle had given him an ultimatum. Anything that would increase his odds of defeating this Gym Leader would be welcome. "Sure. Let's go over your notes."

The skinny girl opened her messenger bag and pulled out a beat-up composition book. Her bony fingers flipped through the pages so quickly that Cyrus had no idea how she could read the notebook's contents. Apparently, she could because she stopped flipping and happily handed over the open book. "Here's my profile on Jet. Read 'em and weep."

The first thing that caught Cyrus's attention wasn't so much _what_ Lulu wrote, but rather _how_ she wrote it. Although his school taught traditional Sinnohan and all the kanji variants native to the Quad, all papers had to be written in the international language. When he did that; he wrote in a neat, legible sans serif font. Instead of lowercase letters, he just had large and small uppercase letters. Apparently, Lulu did the exact same thing…and that was kind of funny.

 **CROAGUNK ( )  
ABILITY: ANTICIPATION  
NATURE: BRAVE  
LEVEL: 20  
\- ASTONISH  
\- MUD-SLAP  
\- POISON STING  
\- PURSUIT**

 **MEDITITE ( )  
ABILITY: PURE POWER  
NATURE: JOLLY  
LEVEL: 20  
\- BIDE  
\- CONFUSION  
\- BRICK BREAK  
\- DETECT**

 **HARIYAMA ( )  
ABILITY: THICK FAT  
NATURE: ADAMANT  
LEVEL: 22  
\- FAKE OUT  
\- VITAL THROW  
\- BRINE  
\- BRICK BREAK **

That first part didn't surprise him. The levels were roughly what he'd expect for a Pokémon League's second gym. Jet's lineup was challenging and well thought out. Meditite's dual Psychic typology canceled out a lot of Fighting weaknesses and would be super effective against Golbat.

What surprised Cyrus was that Lulu didn't stop there. She apparently had a section she'd lovingly dubbed _How is this cheap?_ He read further, curious to see what in particular she hated about this lineup.

 **JET'S TEAM IS ALL ABOUT STALLING AND MAKING YOUR LIFE HARD FROM THE START. LET'S COUNT THE WAYS.**

 **JET'S CROAGUNK CAN:  
(1) FORCE YOU TO SKIP A TURN (IF ASTONISH WORKS)  
(2) DESTROY YOUR ACCURACY WITH MUD-SLAP  
(3) POISON YOU  
(4) PREVENT YOU FROM SWITCHING POKÉMON (PURSUIT)  
(5) INSTANTLY INFORM JET IF YOUR POKÉMON HAS A TYPE/MOVE THAT IS SUPER EFFECTIVE AGAINST IT (ANTICIPATION)**

 **THE MEDITITE PREDOMINANTLY USES PSYCHIC MOVES, BUT IT ALSO HAPPENS TO KNOW BRICK BREAK. MEDITITES DON'T NATURALLY LEARN THIS, BUT THERE IS NO RULE PREVENTING A GYM LEADER FROM PURCHASING TECHNICAL MACHINES. WANT BRICK BREAK? SILPH CO HAS IT CATALOGUED AS TM31.**

 **LASTLY, THERE'S THE MASSIVE TANK: THE HARIYAMA. WHILE THERE ARE BETTER POKÉMON JET COULD THEORETICALLY USE, HARIYAMA IS VERSATILE. IF JET STARTS HARIYAMA OFF WITH FAKE OUT, THE OPPONENT WILL WASTE AN ATTACK. IT ALSO CONTAINS POWERFUL FIGHTING MOVES LIKE VITAL THROW AND (AGAIN) BRICK BREAK.**

Cyrus looked up from the notebook and back at Lulu. "You do this for every Gym Leader?" The girl grinned and took her notes back. "This is way too thick for just two Kinzonian cities. Are there other leagues in that book?"

"Well, _duh_. Do I look like a ten-year-old to you?" The only part of Lulu that looked ten years old was her chest, but Cyrus wasn't about to tell her that. "Kinzo's actually my fifth assignment. Some of their gyms are old and haven't been evaluated in at least twelve years. That's why I'm here."

"I thought you said you were an actuary for an insurance firm."

The girl snorted and stuffed her notebook back into her bag. "I said my _parents_ were actuaries. I'm actually an IPL auditor. It's my job to visit different regions, watch other trainers compete in league-sanctioned battles, and report any code violations back to the International League. Standardization exists for a reason, but you wouldn't believe how many regions think the rules don't apply to them."

Eric made a nasal noise in an attempt to mimic Lulu's voice and then huffed. "Can we go, already? Hearing you talk about your job is about as exciting as watching paint dry!" He grabbed hold of Isaac's wrist to his left and Lulu's wrist to his right. Both were given a persistent yank as the large boy dragged them deeper into Katarina Square. Cyrus picked up his pace just to keep up. "That said, you really should ding Jet for something. I hate that cocky bastard!"

 _Hate_ was a rather loaded word, not to mention one that Cyrus never took lightly. People like Eric tossed it around rather flippantly. To them, hate could mean mild dislike, disappointment, or anger regarding another person's actions. To Cyrus, hate was reserved only for those he loathed enough to personally wish ill will upon. By that definition, the only people he could say in complete confidence that he hated were in Team Sigma.

He took one quick moment to look at the Zykova Stairs from the top. At the bottom, he'd been unable to see any of the landings. Up here, he could see every step and landing all the way to the beautiful blue harbor. There were ferries, cargo ships, and small luxury liners in the water. Some of them were docked at nearby ports. He could even see a boardwalk with a seemingly endless row of stores and restaurants. That was probably where Cynthia spent the day with this group three days ago.

Now that there was more daylight, Kalium City began to come to life. Everyone moved around like Durants in a colony, all hurriedly trying to get to their desired destination. Down there, all the buildings were boring concrete slabs with sporadic smatterings of graffiti, neon, and propaganda art.

The same could not be said for Katarina Square. These were the lovingly preserved remnants of Kaliygorod: a city that stood before Kalium did. The square only made up a grand total of four city blocks, but that was enough to flaunt its gorgeous, Neo-Baroque architecture.

Most of the buildings were a soothing creamy yellow hue with white trim, lots of fountains, and latticework so intricate that it resembled delicate lace. Palatial buildings with plenty of windows and cathedral-style ceilings glittered in the early April sun. Neoclassical statues of handsome men and voluptuous women in the fashions of the early 1800s greeted passersby as they guarded the sides of the Zykova Stairs.

When Cynthia battled Jet, she'd probably want to explore every building available to the general public and hunt for a museum. If they weren't under such a time crunch, Cyrus would have humored her. He just couldn't afford to right now. The most he could probably do was take a photo for her scrapbook, assuming she'd even want one.

"Um, Cyrus?" Isaac was looking right at him. Even though he had a smile on his freckled face, his eyes betrayed his mild worry. "I'm not trying to talk you out of your gym battle, but do you feel well enough to fight? You only just got out of the hospital."

"I'll manage." It wasn't like he'd have to outrun a hungry Cofagrigus or an angry Yamask today. If he needed to sit down and command his Pokémon through a microphone, he was fairly sure he could. Gym battles were stressful, but at least they weren't physically taxing.

He searched the square for Katarina the Incredible's statue. The Kalium Gym was supposed to be next to it, but there was one problem: Renata never told him what Katarina looked like and the square had a _lot_ of statues. Only one stood out from the rest. In the center of a big fountain was a large, full-figured woman with big hair, a double chin, and an elaborate dress with a broad hoop skirt. Her arms were widely spread apart. From behind, her arms seemed to embrace the whole harbor.

To the right of the statue was a two story circular building covered in blue-tinted arched windows, elaborate latticework, miniature gilded statues of Tsarina Katarina, and limestone bricks that turned yellow when the sun touched them. At the front was an archway with two white marble columns to each side of a grand balcony. At the very top was one more Katarina statue, this time riding in a sleigh pulled by two Arcanines.

Two more Arcanine statues stood to the sides of the front entrance: a pair of stained cedar double doors. Cyrus grabbed one of the door handles and turned around, just to confirm with his friends that this was the Kalium Gym. Isaac and Eric both gave him a thumbs-up.

As he pushed the doors, he wondered what sort of decorations would be inside this gym. Simon's gym used to be a soda bottling plant and he'd decorated the exposed brick with lights and various occult designs until he made the place his own. Jet's gym appeared to be a converted theater, though he had decked out the foyer as a museum and shrine to his own overly inflated ego.

Several sharply-dressed mannequins stood to attention behind glass cases. Collectible memorabilia for several big-name companies decorated the cases. So many of those companies were from other places, but ran special Kinzonian ads with Jet's smiling, handsome face painted all over them. He was on posters, billboards, government public service announcements, commercials—everywhere. If Jet Melkadze ever posed in front of a camera for someone else's gain, the image and other mementos were placed on display.

Lulu took a big gulp of coffee from her thermos and coughed. "It's almost nauseating, isn't it? And I thought _Simon_ was a narcissist! Still…" She sipped again and raised the cup as if she planned to toast one of Jet's dozens of effigies. "At least he's nice to look at."

Cyrus shrugged because he honestly didn't care. The only thought passing through his mind was that Dr. Plutarski would have found this disgusting display of self-worship particularly hilarious. _The higher they rise, the more satisfying it is when they fall._ He'd say something like that.

"The arena's this way," Isaac called out, gesturing for the group to follow him. "All you have to do is climb the stairs—yeah, yeah. I know. This part of the city loves stairs—and you'll be in the theatre. His arena's bang in the middle."

To his left, he could hear Eric grunt as he stomped up the carpeted stairs. To his right, Lulu continued to sip on her drink and grabbed hold of the smooth stone railing. She seemed to be a bit clumsy this morning, occasionally missing a step or coming close to tripping. Behind him, Cyrus felt Eevee zip back and forth excitedly.

All the stone columns, gold floral trim, and elaborate detail made him feel like he was in a palace or church rather than a gym. Jet's shrine of self-love didn't interest him; but the architecture did. Although the inspiration for the building was rather Kalosian, he couldn't help but notice echoes of Ædranos with all the columns.

The actual arena was a former theatre, complete with balcony and mezzanine seats on three sides and an elaborate proscenium stage with rich red curtains. The ground level seats had all been gutted to create a Pokémon Gym arena. All around the gym were various swings, trapezes, flags, streamers, and chandeliers.

"Come on, boys," Lulu grunted. "Let's take our seats. Just be sure to pick one where I can enjoy the view. Cyrus?" Just as the boys had done earlier, she gave him a big thumbs up. "Good luck out there. Kick his ass."

"Oh ho hoooooo! Look who finally showed up!"

A deep, jovial voice reverberated from every corner of the arena. Cyrus recognized it immediately from the Metro stations and the orientation video. It took a moment for him to pinpoint where Jet's voice came from, but he finally spotted him at the very top of the arena. He was hanging from what used to be a chandelier.

The Gym Leader waved at him playfully. He was clearly eager to get this show on the road. "I have to admit I'm pleasantly surprised. Maybe you aren't as weak as you look!"

Eevee growled. Every hair on his shoulders and the back of his neck stood up, making the top half of his body look twice as large. He so badly wanted to look big and intimidating, but nothing could manage to do that next to this huge Ursaring of a man.

Jet reached for a rope and began his descent down into the arena. Not only was his red track jacket wide open, but he'd also rolled up the sleeves to show off more of his powerful body. He (thankfully) had an undershirt beneath that jacket, but his thick beefy arms were mostly bare. The only part he tried to protect were his hands, which were supported by a pair of brown leather fingerless gloves.

Once he was less than a story from the ground, he let go of the rope and did a somersault before his feet made a perfect landing. The sound of his body making impact with the floor echoed along with the sound of Isaac and Lulu's sarcastic "golf clap" applause and Eric's rude heckling.

"SUCK A DICK, JET!" Eric called out. "YOU SUUUUUUCK!"

"Ha ha ha!" Jet let loose a good-natured laugh and thumped his chest a couple of times with a fist. "You're entitled to feel that way, fat Kanto trainer! You have yet to beat me! And hello, ugly girl! So good to see you again!"

Eric burst into a fit of laughter and thumped Lulu's back hard enough to startle her. Yes, he'd just gotten teased by Jet too; but he'd never pass up an opportunity to have a good laugh at a friend's expense. Lulu hissed something at him, but Cyrus didn't hear what she said. He just noticed she'd started guzzling that coffee at an alarming speed and had her notebook wide open on her lap. Her cheeks were bright red and her glasses started to fog up.

' _I bet she's going to use this battle as a case study. That's fine._ ' Cyrus took a few slow breaths just to make sure he came across as a calm opponent. It was just hard to do that since Simon had been very intense and Jet was one of the largest men he'd ever seen.

Every step the Gym Leader took, Cyrus heard the laminate floor groan. Jet held out his hand so they could shake, and Cyrus accepted it. He just wished the man would ease up his grip. "Shall we begin, comrade?"

"Sure. I'm just surprised you don't have any Gym Trainers. Simon's gym was practically teeming with them."

Jet rolled his shoulders back and did a few flexes. Cyrus wasn't sure which of his friends whistled, but one of them did. "Yes, well, Simon and I are very different kinds of men. I don't need an entire gym full of defeated ex-opponents to tell me I'm great. I already know that!"

Arrogant as he was, at least he wasn't lacking in self-confidence. Good for him.

The goliath's black eyes burned with excitement as he tossed a scuffed up Ultra Ball into the arena. "Call out your first Pokémon, little comrade! By the time we're done here, you'll have to decide who's in more dire need of medical attention: your Pokémon or you!"

The Pokémon didn't leave its ball, but started rolling around the arena when Jet cranked some Kinzonian pop music through the speakers. Cyrus suspected the creature wouldn't emerge until after he called out his first Pokémon. ' _It's a power play, and not necessarily a bad one. I think he wants me to make a choice before I find out which Pokémon he used.'_

It was time to make a choice: the rational choice or the sentimental choice. Eevee looked up at him eagerly and even took his first couple of steps toward the arena, but Cyrus scooped him into his arms before he got too far. "Let Golbat go first. He'll deal more damage." Eevee obeyed, but it was clear his feelings were hurt. He went limp, but not before letting loose a quick huff in protest.

"Golbat, eh?" Jet seemed surprised. "Is this the same Golbat that mauled you on the train? I can't believe you kept it!"

"Some days, neither can I," Cyrus grumbled as he pulled out Golbat's Poké Ball. He'd tried his best to appear calm, but he couldn't stop his hand from shaking. Golbat hadn't attacked him in the Kalium Catacombs, but he'd been far from happy. He had no idea how he'd behave in this gym.

When Golbat came out of his ball, he let loose an eardrum-shattering shriek and thumped his wings against his body in an attempt to assert dominance against—wait! The other Pokémon wasn't even out yet! The big bat stomped toward the ball and kicked it, hoping whatever was inside felt it.

Golbat's foot must have touched the button because a bright light came out of the Ultra Ball. Two seconds later, a Croagunk appeared in the arena and made a goofy face at the bat. Cyrus shot Jet a dirty look, but the Gym Leader just beamed. He didn't buy this dumb lovable idiot ruse for a second. Jet knew damn well what he was doing. ' _Whatever. It's doubly weak to Flying moves and its Ground move won't do anything. I know what to tell Golbat to use._ '

"Golbat! Wing Attack!"

If Golbat had listened to him, he would have landed a super effective hit. Instead, he hissed at Cyrus and hit Croagunk with a Confuse Ray. In the distance, Lulu lifted up her thermos and took a big gulp before going back to writing in her notebook. Her cheeks turned an entire shade pinker than they were before.

Prior to getting hit with the Confuse Ray, Croagunk did a playful little jig around the arena. When he clapped his hands, several cameras from the second story came into view: recording all angles of the battle for Jet's posterity. Go figure. He _did_ seem like the kind of guy who re-watched his fights to either learn from them…or just watch himself look cool.

"Astonish, Croagunk!" Jet called out. His Pokémon looked at him quizzically, not quite sure what his trainer asked him to do, but it finally clicked. A loud, guttural croak left Croagunk's throat, but it wasn't enough to get Golbat to flinch.

Cyrus could tell from the way Golbat was carrying himself that no part of him saw this battle as a challenge. "Is there _any_ chance I can convince you to end that thing with a Wing Attack?" Golbat looked at him, confused. "He has two more Pokémon after this. I'd rather see you win."

Since Cyrus asked politely rather than simply barking an order, Golbat decided to humor him. When the Wing Attack hit, the impact was critical. Jet's Croagunk hit the ground and didn't get up again.

"WOOOOOO!" Isaac cheered, roaring with applause. "GOOD JOB, GOLBAT! YOU'RE DOING GREAT!"

"Gol?" Golbat's eyes twinkled because he hadn't expected to receive any praise for his work. He pointed at himself with a wing, just to make sure the redheaded college boy was talking about him. When Isaac clapped even louder, the bat hid his face with both wings so Cyrus couldn't see how much he was smiling.

When Jet returned Croagunk to its Ultra Ball, he whistled. "It's obvious why you need a Potassium Badge. You over-trained that Golbat and now it won't follow your commands. I see a lot of this."

"You do?" Cyrus honestly wasn't too surprised. Simon ran an insanely difficult gym and went out of his way to be hard. Even seasoned trainers like Cynthia struggled in Plumbum City. He somehow doubted he was the first or last trainer to over-train a Pokémon just to have a brute force advantage against a Kinzonian Gym Leader.

Jet attached Croagunk's ball back to his belt and reached for another ball. "да! Every day! Simon doesn't go easy on anyone; so some trainers think their only hope of beating him is to over-train. That's okay, though. I don't mind when they do that. When their Pokémon stop listening to them, it only makes my job easier."

Cyrus shot Golbat a look. ' _I really hope you listen to me with this next one. You got lucky.'_

"Get ready for my next Pokémon!" Jet threw the next ball into the air and gave it a kick to open it up. "This one really packs a punch!"

Cyrus didn't even wait to see if it was the Meditite or the Hariyama because it didn't matter. Golbat's best move would be super effective either way, but he needed to land the first hit. "Wing Attack! NOW!" He thought Golbat would either comply or screech at him. Instead, the bat outright ignored him because he was too busy flapping his wings and acting cute for Isaac. "What the hell, Golbat?! Use—"

Annoyed by his trainer's constant interruptions, Golbat turned around long enough to hiss at him and then stubbornly sat his rump down on the floor.

Once again, Lulu took another swig of her drink. By now, Cyrus had caught on that she was playing some kind of drinking game at his expense. Every time Golbat didn't listen, she'd sip more coffee. He hoped it wasn't spiked, but she _did_ stumble around a bit earlier and nearly dropped her thermos.

"Heh…heh heh…" Jet folded his arms and lifted his head proudly. "Meditite?" It looked at him expectantly, saluting. "Confusion."

Oh no! This was what he was afraid of! Golbat had a double weakness to Psychic attacks. He could dick around with Croagunk and Hariyama and probably be fine; but that Meditite may as well have been made of Kryptonite. Not only was her assault on Golbat incredibly effective, but Golbat came out of it too confused to even properly fly. He tried a couple of times, but never made it higher than a meter before he lost his balance and flopped back onto the floor.

"Why don't you save yourself some embarrassment? Switch Golbat out for your Eevee and—"

"No! Eevee's a Normal Pokémon. You'd have an unfair advantage if I did that!" Cyrus huffed in annoyance and tried to get Golbat's attention. "Look, I know you're confused right now, but would you just—"

Golbat made an agitated noise and decided making a "dust angel" on the floor was more important than whatever his human had to say. And like clockwork, Lulu had the drink in her hand. Cyrus opened his mouth, ready to tell Lulu that her stupid game wasn't funny, but he was distracted by Jet's low chuckling.

"He won't listen to you," Jet goaded. "Some over-trained Pokémon humor their trainers, but that only works when they like you. That Golbat…heh…I haven't seen a Pokémon hate somebody that much in nearly—Meditite, another Confusion will suffice—two years? Maybe three?"

Meditite's Confusion dealt another super effective blow. Golbat yelped in pain this time, but Cyrus had very little sympathy for him. "You can end this," he reminded Golbat. "In fact, you could have ended this three minutes ago if you'd listened to me."

Golbat just flipped a wing off in his general direction and took another hit when Meditite used Confusion. Lulu lost her grip on her thermos and spilled her coffee all over the floor. Eric wouldn't stop laughing. So much for moral support! Cyrus was about ready to strangle the both of them!

He had enough of this nonsense. His heart was beating twice as fast and he could feel the all-too-familiar unpleasant sensation of rage building in his veins. "Do you think you're going to get out of this if we fail? No! We'll come back and do the WHOLE DAMN THING ALL OVER AGAIN if you keep wasting my time!"

Golbat snarled. He was starting to think Cyrus could use a nice new set of wounds to accompany the ones the doctors stitched up the other day. Or maybe he'd launch an attack at his leg and bite hard enough that the antibiotics wouldn't be enough to save it. Watching him hop around like a one-legged Buneary would be pretty satisfying.

"Look; if you won't do it for me, at least do it for Eevee."

"Bat?"

"You didn't think about that, did you? Once your tantrum is over and you faint, I'll have to send him out! Just use the damn Wing Attack, Golbat. It's not like I'm asking you to do anything hard." Cyrus wasn't sure how well that would work, but Golbat seemed to at least respond. By some miracle, he decided to listen…and the Wing Attack was enough to knock out Jet's Meditite. "See? That's two down. You only have one more to go."

But he wasn't about to tell Golbat he'd done a good job. His fuck-ups nearly made him faint.

Jet may have lost two Pokémon in this battle, but he didn't seem even close to bothered. "That Golbat's gonna kill you. At least, I can tell that he really wants to. If you lose to my final Pokémon, I don't think you'll make it back to Zed's cute little Trainers Lodge in one piece."

Eevee tried to wiggle his way out of Cyrus's arms so he could jump into the arena. Instead, he just felt a cold, frustrated hand firmly pet behind his ears. The motion was almost protective.

"Don't worry," Cyrus murmured under his breath. "He only has one Pokémon left. Golbat can do this. Can't you, Golbat?" Golbat just looked at him and rolled his eyes. At least it wasn't a hiss this time.

"You've met my last Pokémon before," Jet remarked, calling it out. "He rescued you from the Battle Car, so show him a little gratitude and lose! Hariyama, Fake Out! Let's go!"

"Golbat, use—"

It didn't matter. Golbat decided he'd had enough of Cyrus and sat in place, letting the blow strike him.

Eevee heard something growl. It took him a moment to realize the sound was coming from his human. Cyrus was typically a calm, collected person. This was Eevee's first time seeing his angry side and the Pokémon was a little afraid. He'd finally had enough. As soon as Cyrus started snapping at Lulu to put her drink down, Eevee seized his opportunity and jumped out of his arms.

"Eevee, wait! What are you doing?!"

Watching his human struggle with Golbat made Eevee feel terrible. He hoped his plan worked, if only to spare Cyrus any further embarrassment. The little brown Pokémon barked at Golbat and lifted his tail up in the air. The front half of his body was lowered and his ears were all the way down. "Vee vee! Eevee!"

Golbat turned around, staring directly at the smaller Pokémon. "Baaat?"

"BRICK BREAK!" Jet called out. His herculean body was practically bouncing with anticipation: like he had been waiting this entire battle just to get to his sadistic punchline.

The Hariyama stomped toward Golbat with enough force to make every dangling light in the arena tremble like a bunch of scared animals. It huffed, puffed, and had a nearly crazed look in its eyes. Its massive arms stretched wide, ready to pulverize its target, and—

"VEE!"

Golbat snapped out of his funk at the last possible second and smacked Hariyama with a Wing Attack powerful enough to send the creature airborne.

Instead of flying high and instantly coming down, the big Pokémon got caught on one of Jet's acrobatic swings. Jet may have been a large man, but Hariyama still weighed two and a half times more than he did. His body was too heavy for the swing's support system. The support wires snapped like damaged hair and the Pokémon was once more in the air.

Hariyama crash landed into the stage and took the thick curtains and support beam down with him. He squirmed once or twice, but gave up and collapsed. Beneath him, several planks on the stage splintered and snapped apart.

For the entire battle, Jet was all smiles and jokes. Seeing his final Pokémon get blown away like that left him speechless for nearly a full minute. He called Hariyama back, but his mouth remained wide open. He looked at Cyrus, and then at Golbat, and then at Eevee…and once more on Cyrus. All he could do was shake his handsome head back and forth in disbelief.

"HA HA HA HA HA HAAAAAA!" Eric roared with laughter and applauded loudly. "NOW _THAT'S_ HOW YOU DO IT!"

The next time Jet's dark eyes made contact with Eevee's, the little Pokémon pranced into the center of the arena and flopped over. He daintily curled his front paws into his chest and splayed his back legs so the Gym Leader could see all of his fluffy, soft belly. His tail swished up and down slowly as he made a happy noise and twitched his big ears.

Having never owned an Eevee, Jet seemed a bit unsure as to what to do. He crouched down and got on his knees so he could easily pet Eevee's tummy. The Pokémon licked his hand and nuzzled his cheek to Jet's hand: a clear sign he enjoyed the attention. However, after one belly rub too many, Eevee sunk his teeth into Jet's hand and started Buneary-kicking his arm. It wasn't enough to draw blood: just enough to show he was playing.

"Ha ha. Okay, little guy. You win." Jet wiggled Eevee's stomach with his big hand for a few more seconds and then pried the Pokémon's jaw off his arm. He looked at Cyrus and let loose a mildly embarrassed laugh. "This is a first for me. I can't believe I lost to a Pokémon instead of his trainer! Here. Catch!"

He threw something shiny in the air. Cyrus tried his best to catch it, but he missed. Golbat managed to catch the item with his tongue and stuck it out so Cyrus could take it. There it was: a Potassium Badge! "I don't understand. I didn't beat you."

"No, but your _team_ did. That's good enough for me." Jet gave his biggest, friendliest smile and held out his hand to shake one more time. "That Potassium Badge should keep your Golbat in line until he reaches Level 30. I strongly suggest you work on your bond before he hits that mark. If you don't, you'll have a repeat of today at the Hydrargyrum Gym. And I can assure you: Kai's tougher than I am."

…

Lulu swore up and down that she wasn't drunk; but she could barely formulate a coherent sentence, let alone stand up. There was no way she could walk down the Zykova Stairs without assistance, so Cyrus asked Jet if he could carry her to the bottom. She weighed next to nothing, so Jet was able to easily throw her over his shoulder and walk without any sort of hindrance.

"Please don't throw up on me," he kept mumbling. Each time Lulu made a noise, Jet's face turned a little paler. Once they made it to the final stair, he shot an anxious expression at the group. "What's the plan now? I can't exactly carry your friend all the way to the Trainers Lodge. I need to heal my Pokémon, clean up my gym, and get everything ready for my next challenger."

Cyrus looked to the other boys, not sure if either of them had a plan. Isaac seemed to be mulling over an idea, but his thought process was abruptly cut short when Eric spoke up. "I'll get a taxi, I guess. My pals can get back to the Lodge without me. Can't you, Isaac?"

"Uh—"

Jet didn't even wait for confirmation. He whipped out his wallet, handed some money to Eric, and gently set Lulu down. "Keep what's leftover. Call my gym when you have her settled in, okay?"

"D'awww," Lulu cackled between inebriated hiccups. Her limp noodle arms flopped around Jet's neck in an attempt to hug him, but he managed to easily pull himself away. "You _do_ care!"

Jet's expression changed from nervous to disgusted. "Ugh. No! Drunk girls just make me uncomfortable, okay?" His dark eyes glanced to the left, and then to the right. Cyrus had no clue what he was even trying to look for, not that it mattered. The big man darted up the stairs at record speed and didn't even bother to look back. "Later! До свидания!"

Cyrus knew that meant goodbye. That was one of the first phrases he'd learned.

The moment Jet was out of sight, Isaac shot Eric a dirty look and pushed him. Angry as he was, the gesture did next to nothing. Eric was too big to even budge. "You're seriously gonna flag a taxi for just the two of you?"

"Hell yeah, dude. A four-man cab costs twice as much."

"You could have at least offered _Cyrus_ a ride! What if he's not well enough to ride the bike you rented?!"

But Eric wasn't even paying attention. As soon as a cab driver pulled over to give him a lift, he manhandled Lulu until he had her upright and safely strapped into the back seat. "Your friend better not puke on my upholstery," the driver snapped. "If she does, I'm kicking you both to the curb, cab fare be damned."

"Whatever, comrade. Just fucking drive."

The car sped off, leaving a thick black exhaust cloud behind. Isaac coughed and tried his best to fan it away, but the smell of diesel refused to go away. "Asshole," he grumbled. "Sometimes I wonder why we're even friends!" He shot Cyrus a look, as if he expected him to have an answer…but he didn't.

All he could do was shrug his shoulders, which only made Isaac's frown all the more pronounced.

The college boy groaned and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm really sorry about that. I don't have enough money for a taxi and I need to return these bikes. Do you feel well enough to ride?" Cyrus didn't want to cause any more problems, so he nodded his head. "And are you okay? You've been really quiet since we left the gym."

Cyrus kept looking at his Potassium Badge. He wasn't sure whether or not this counted as a fair victory. He'd deliberately tricked the first Gym Leader, and his Eevee needed to step in so he could beat the second one. What sort of track record was that setting?

"Am I a good trainer, Isaac?" He could tell his friend hadn't expected that question. "Or am I the punchline to some sort of sick joke?"

Isaac's green eyes grew big. He presented Cyrus with what was formerly Eric's rental bike and gave him a serious, concerned look. "What makes you think you're a joke?" But all the younger boy could do was look down at his Eevee. The little fur ball was still on cloud nine, cooing and weaving between his skinny legs. "Dude, no. I think it's really cool that Eevee did you a solid like that. It shows how good of a bond you have!"

Cyrus hunched over so he could put Eevee in the bike's basket. He half expected the Pokémon to jump out or try to climb on him, but Eevee stayed put and made a happy noise. For just a moment, he scratched the back of Eevee's head to see if his ears would wiggle and they did. "Soon, that won't matter. He's not my Eevee."

"What are you talking about? Of course he's—"

"He's on loan. The moment my real Pokémon come out of quarantine, I have to give him back to my boss." He hadn't meant for his voice to crack, but he couldn't help it. "This is why I feel like I'm a joke. I had no trouble getting a Pokémon I don't own to like me, but you saw my Golbat."

Isaac wasn't the only one who witnessed Golbat's defiance, either. Eric and Lulu saw it too. Golbat was such a bad egg that even Jet felt the need to comment on his behavior. Everyone knew Cyrus had a bad Pokémon in his party, but he wasn't even sure that was true.

Maybe there weren't bad Pokémon. Maybe there were just bad trainers.

He knew he should have been pedaling his bike to keep up with Isaac, but all he could do was stare at his Potassium Badge. It wouldn't help him for long. Golbat would outgrow it in less than a week. Everyone he'd talked to in the past few days insisted the Hydrargyrum Gym Leader made Jet look like a joke. If that was even remotely true; then getting a Mercury Badge would be difficult, if not impossible, without catching another Pokémon.

But did he have any right to do that? What if the next thing he caught hated him even more than Golbat did? What if Professor Myrtle was right about his old Pokémon turning on him because they were "bully breeds?"

"I don't know what I'm doing." He clenched his hand so tightly that he could feel the badge's sharp edges cut into his skin. "I just know I'm not ready to go back to Sinnoh."

Isaac could have pedaled off and left him, but he stayed put. He wasn't the kind of guy who could leave an upset friend behind, just because he wasn't comfortable. "I don't understand. Why would you have to go back to Sinnoh?"

Deep breaths were supposed to calm jittery nerves, so why was it that he couldn't stop shaking? "My boss gave me an ultimatum: get to Hydrargyrum City in three days or she'll terminate my work visa. I can't stay in Kinzo without one, so—"

"Bullshit. Yes you can!" Isaac pedaled his bike closer to Cyrus and shot him an almost brotherly smile. "Lulu's on a work visa, but Eric and I have tourist visas. They only last 90 days, but your region's consulate office can renew it as many times as you need. I don't know where the _Sinnoh_ consulate is; but the Kanto one's located somewhere on Dacha Street in Hydrargyrum City. We've had to renew our visas three times already."

Hearing that was a breath of fresh air. The tension in Cyrus's hands began to ease up. His right palm felt bruised and a bit bloodied from the badge, but he could still manage the ride back to the Lodge. "It's that easy?" He had a hard time believing it, but Isaac was very firmly nodding his head. "Thanks, Isaac. Maybe I'm getting worked up over nothing."

"No, you're not. Anyone would freak out over that!" Isaac shot one last supportive glance Cyrus's way and began the downhill descent toward the Lodge. He stopped once or twice, just to make sure he was being followed. Once he confirmed Cyrus was right behind him, he started to zig and zag. "And screw Professor Myrtle. If you or Cynthia get the boot, you can just travel with us."

That wasn't a solid Plan B, but Cyrus recognized that Isaac was trying to make him feel better. It was working. "Want to race?"

"You're up for it?" All Cyrus had to do was smirk. Isaac's entire freckled face broke into a huge grin. "Okay. If you change your mind, just yell at me to slow down. Last one to the Lodge has to buy lunch!"

"Wait, Jet forgot to—" Before Cyrus could say that Jet never paid him any prize money, Isaac zipped off like a speeding bullet.


	50. Louder Than Words

**Author's Note: The movie mentioned here was inspired by the 2009 film _Tsar_. Considering the source material was based on Ivan the Terrible; readers with a sensitivity for violence, torture, and gore are advised to gloss over that portion of the chapter.**

 **…**

"I'm really sorry, kiddo. I'll make it up to ya later." Cynthia heard Campanella, but she didn't respond. Now wasn't a good time to talk.

The last time she was this angry, she'd blown up at Cyrus and said things she still regretted. They both apologized and had a chance to calm down, but this was different. When she and Cyrus fought, they didn't drag anyone else into their drama. There was no collateral damage: just mutual wounds they dealt to each other. That pain was limited to only the two of them, and they were working to repair the cracks even now.

Cyrus didn't want to be volunteered for things without his consent, so Cynthia made a conscious effort to invite him instead. That way, the choice was all his. She just wanted him to know she never meant any harm. It wasn't some twisted conspiracy to force him to be social. He seemed to understand that now. By all appearances, he even seemed to be in better spirits. Cynthia knew her words had hurt him, but he was healing. So was she.

Things weren't the same in Campanella's case. She never hurt Cynthia's feelings, but she definitely hurt her finances. The remaining interview money wasn't enough to post bail, so Cynthia had to fork over everything she had. Even then, she was still a thousand PokéDollars short. Thank Arceus Zed was willing to foot the remainder of the bill!

When it was all over, Zed pulled into a drive-thru to buy everyone a cheap lunch. Cynthia felt terrible for accepting that hamburger, but she'd skipped breakfast. If she didn't eat now, she'd feel sick and weak for the rest of the day.

"Y'ain't mad, are ya?"

"Why would I be mad?" Cynthia growled. She took a big bite of the burger, hoping to stuff her face with food rather than choice words. If she could keep her mouth busy, maybe she could stop the vitriol from spilling out.

All her prize money from beating Simon was gone. Unless Cyrus wanted to foot the bill to keep the private room, they'd need to move their things into the public barracks tonight. They wouldn't be able to eat anything other than the free meals at the Lodge. She couldn't even buy items to boost her chances against Jet!

If she called her grandmother and told her what happened, Carolina would give her a temporary loan—but Cynthia didn't want to do that. The most frustrating part was that she'd been very careful with her money. This didn't happen because she was irresponsible, but because Campanella couldn't control her stupid temper.

"Kid…" Just hearing that voice made her blood pressure spike. "You get why I did it, don't ya? Myrtle was the first person to give a shit about me after I—"

"Campanella?" Her voice dripped with warning. "I don't want to talk right now." It took every bit of emotional restraint to hold back from popping off at her. She wanted to ask her if she ever thought before she acted, but there was no point. Obviously, the answer was no.

"But—"

"Pull the car over, Zed. I'm walking." The request caught the Lodge Owner by surprise, but he did as Cynthia asked. She didn't even care that this was an unfamiliar part of the city. It could be gangland, for all she cared. If it meant she didn't have to be around Campanella for a while, it would be worth it.

…

Just short of an hour later, she stumbled into the Lodge and flopped in front of the fireplace. Her toes felt numb, so she kicked off her boots and stuck her sock-covered feet on top of the coffee table. Nobody else was using it, so she figured it would be okay.

She searched the lobby for familiar faces, but couldn't find any. Isaac, Eric, and Lulu were at the Kalium Gym to cheer for Cyrus. The Beridze siblings beat Jet last afternoon, so an older trainer with a government pass offered to drive them to Hydrargyrum City. Renata spent the night at the Pokémon Center, so Cynthia didn't expect to find her here. Everyone, it seemed, was gone.

At least the television was on. Even though she had to read the subtitles at the bottom of the screen to understand the actors, the movie seemed pretty interesting. Based on the sets and costumes, it was an historical drama set sometime during the middle ages: either the tail end of the Grand Aurelium Empire or the occupied imperial era.

A man with a bell rode his Rapidash from town to terrified town, repeating the same phrase over and over. Frightened townspeople embraced each other as the rider demanded they all come to the tsar's estate to see the "carnival." If they refused to comply, then they risked becoming part of the exhibit themselves.

The screen cut over to the palace courtyard, where the tsar sat in his fine golden robes and drank a thick red wine. Cynthia recognized the outfit from the wax museum. This was the dark-haired man at the bottom of the staircase: the one with the thick gold robes, the haunting eyes, and the cane.

It was pitch black outside, save for the many torches illuminating the field. Makeshift multi-level benches circled around the courtyard like an ersatz coliseum. Like the Caesars of old, the tsar sat in his special balcony overlooking the dark, depraved site his engineers had crafted for his sole sordid entertainment.

The town crier repeated his speech over and over. Each time, he reassured the people that it would be the liars, heretics, and traitors who would be on display. The target always changed, as did the focus to another morbidly whimsical torture device. First, the camera honed in on a stage with spikes beneath it. Next, the fixation shifted to a giant wheel with man-sized leather restraints on the spokes.

As the crier's voice lost its loudness, his tone became more frantic. He was clearly shouting, but he could scarcely be heard. The camera panned out to show that these "torches" were human-shaped. The tsar was alone in this display, awaiting both victims and onlookers.

Neither ever came. Daylight seeped into the scene, the town crier was nothing more than a whisper, and four empty bottles of wine sat at the feet of the disheveled and disheartened tsar.

"Аркеус…" He was praying to Arceus: a religion practiced predominantly by the Sinnohan. His accent was heavy, but he'd very clearly called upon the creation Pokémon itself. "Твой слуга потерян. Он не понимает, что он сделал не так." He then proceeded to bemoan the fact that he was but a mere servant to the creator and did not understand what he had done wrong.

The camera panned out to show nothing but empty rides, a lonely tsar, and burning villages in the nearby countryside. His voice was little more than a whisper, asking Arceus over and over again why his own people had turned on him. As the screen faded to black, Cynthia heard a faint chuckle from the only other person in the lobby area.

In a nearby club chair was a tall, middle-aged man with a long green ponytail. His right arm was in a sling and his left was occupied with a small leather-bound book. It vaguely reminded Cynthia of those small pocket hymnals the Arceus churches gave out during services, but she didn't want to stare for too long. He'd probably think she was being nosy.

This wasn't the first time she spotted this man around the Lodge. Sometimes he read in the lobby. She'd even seen him play poker with Zed once. Although she recognized his face, Cynthia didn't know his name. They'd never so much as said hello to each other before. Now that man was smiling at her. "Morbid little film, wasn't it?"

Cynthia nodded politely. "I only caught the end. Did you see the whole thing?"

The man stretched in the chair and stifled a yawn with his one good hand. "Indeed. And if you saw it from the beginning, you would quickly understand why that tsar was called the Unforgivable."

"Oh! This was about Ilya Zykova? I wrote a paper on him in middle school!"

World History had been a required course. Her teacher tasked each student with choosing a country and studying one of its former leaders for the entire term. One friend wrote about the Kalosian king who designed the Parfum Palace. Another wrote about the great divide between Unova's Princes of Truth and Ideals. 13-year-old Cynthia was a bit of an edgelord; so she picked Kinzo's first (and craziest) tsar.

Although Ilya Zykova was recognized as Grand Prince of Aurelium by the age of 3, he spent most of his childhood locked up in a dungeon while his mother and uncles barely kept the nation afloat. He developed a penchant for death matches and taught his Arcanine to maul anyone who approached him without his consent. By 13, he had not only killed his biggest political rival, but also his mother and nearly twenty servants.

By the time Ilya came to power, he was a walking contradiction. He was a very devout Arceist and even practiced self-harming rituals like flagellation to appease his creator; but he also took sadistic glee in torturing people and Pokémon alike. Almost all the tsar's hobbies involved death, pain, or terror in some capacity. The only thing that didn't was, weirdly enough, his love for playing the trombone.

He was notoriously cruel to the noble class, sometimes even demanding they crawl on all fours and beg in public just to have an audience with him. And yet the peasants adored him. They saw him as a champion for the poor, sick, and helpless.

Ilya had always been prone to severe mood swings and bouts of paranoia, but this only intensified in his old age. His psychosis reached critical mass when he beat his eldest son to death with his cane. Then, one night; Ilya played chess against himself and collapsed. Historians never could determine what the real cause of death was; but they believed it was a stroke, an aneurysm, or a heart attack. It didn't really matter. It was just ironic that somebody so violent failed to meet a violent end.

"Oh dear." Cynthia's cheeks went a bit pale and she could feel a bit of sweat build on the back of her neck. "I took my picture with his wax statue yesterday. Based on what I just saw and what I know about Ilya, I'm starting to regret that decision."

"Was it the carnival?" the man took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I can assure you that scene was tame compared to the earlier parts of the movie. If you have time later, rewind the tape and watch it. The film is called _Ilya_ , in case you're curious."

"Thanks." After all the drama she'd dealt with these past few days, making small talk with a stranger felt nice. She was honestly starting to feel more at ease. "I'll see if my friend wants to watch it with me later. He's challenging the Gym Leader right now."

Both of Cyrus's Pokémon were strong and healthy. If he could get Golbat to listen to him, he'd have this in the bag. Cynthia was about 75% convinced he would come back to the Trainers Lodge with a Potassium Badge in hand. In the off chance he didn't, she could spend the entire evening in a Battle Room with him so he'd be ready for a rematch.

The man didn't seem too impressed with the concept of Gym Leaders. "You're doing that too, I presume?"

"In passing," Cynthia confessed. "We're research assistants for the regional professor. She needs us to explore the countryside, but the government won't let us do that until we have four badges." She intended to collect all eight, but she wasn't sure what Cyrus would decide to do. She hoped her enthusiasm would catch and he'd try for all eight, too. Pokémon journeys were so much more fun with a little friendly competition.

"Ah. Professor Myrtle, huh?" The man left the club chair and moved to sit on the opposite end of the couch. When he stood, Cynthia was a bit taken aback by how tall he was. He had to be almost two meters high! "Will you be helping her at the conference next week?"

"Conference?" Cynthia blinked a few times. "She never mentioned anything about a conference to us. What's it for?"

"Every year, the International Pokémon Academic Association has a conference. It's mostly just a chance for the regional professors to catch up and present any new findings, but lots of charities and organizations set up booths and run panels too. Every region with a certified Pokémon League has the opportunity to host the convention. This year, Kinzo won the bid. They're hosting it in Hydrargyrum City."

"That's so cool!" She knew Professor Rowan sometimes presented his findings at conferences, but she'd never actually attended one of these before. Maybe they could find out what day Professor Myrtle was presenting and surprise her by showing up for her panel! "Are you going to be there, too?"

The man nodded politely. "Yes. My charity always sends someone to represent them at these conferences. I volunteered to go this year because I've never been to Kinzo. Plus, a young man we gave a scholarship to has a panel. I want to make sure someone from the organization is in attendance."

That made sense. "I think that's very sweet of you, sir. If you don't mind me asking, what charity are you representing?"

"Have you ever heard of Pokémon Without Partners?"

"Yes, I have! You rehome discarded, abused, and orphaned Pokémon; don't you?" Before the man could even confirm, Cynthia knew the answer was yes. Pokémon Without Partners was an international chain of Pokémon shelters. They had two locations in Sinnoh alone! "I don't have any shelter Pokémon, but a lot of my friends do. They love them."

One friend adopted a Purugly that was too old and frail to battle. He said he wanted that one because she deserved better than to spend her final years unwanted and unloved in a shelter. It wasn't her fault she outlived her trainer. As he filled out the adoption papers, that fat cat's purrs were loud enough to be heard halfway across the room.

And then there was her old rival June. Even though Professor Rowan offered to give her a starter Pokémon, June declined the offer. She didn't even visit Sandgem Town. Instead, she rode her bike to the Jubilife shelter and adopted a Stunky. According to her, shelters were more "ethical" than laboratories because she'd rather re-home a Pokémon than ask a regional professor to breed her a brand new one.

Cynthia remembered telling June that while she understood her reasoning, she could have been a bit less rude about it. June didn't care. She then elaborated further, saying that she preferred shelter Pokémon because they knew they'd been abandoned. Not only were they grateful for a second chance, but they'd fight even harder just to prove they were worthy.

Everything about that last statement rubbed Cynthia the wrong way. She stopped traveling with June after that and had no clue what she'd been up to since then. Hopefully, the answer wasn't a Kinzo journey.

"I'm glad to hear they found new homes," the man answered calmly. "We try our best to reintegrate shelter Pokémon with their natural habitats, but that doesn't always work. Some of them are so used to people that they can no longer function without them. When that happens, all we can do is hope someone will fall in love and give them the happy endings they deserve. Almost all of my Pokémon are rescues."

For the most part, Kalium City felt like it was polluted with some sort of spiritual smog. Most of the people who lived there shared tales of hardship and loss. If they had no losses, then they were arrogant and inconsiderate to the point of coming across as callous. Cynthia had even noticed a change in her friends.

In Plumbum City, everyone had been supportive and eager to build each other up. Here, if they weren't already busy cutting themselves down; they'd cut each other down. She'd done a number on poor Cyrus's self-esteem and was still trying to make up for that mistake. Lulu persistently criticized Eric's lineup. It was a wonder they hadn't blown up at each other yet. Even well-intended friends like Isaac and Renata had some far-from-ideal moments in Kalium, and then there was Campanella.

 _Let me help you_ , half of them said. The other half replied with the most infuriating thing imaginable: _I don't want your help_.

The only person who seemed to be immune to the miasma was Zed…and now this guy. That was probably the kindest, most wholesome thing Cynthia had heard since she left the last town. "I wish I could see them."

"I wish you could, too, but…" the man sighed. "I only found out about Kinzo's quarantine policy after I bought my ticket. Leaving my Pokémon in the care of the Kinzonian government was probably one of the most difficult things I've ever had to do. I'd sooner turn over my children than my Pokémon! Anyway…here. I have something for you."

He held out a pastel blue business card, which Cynthia automatically took. She glanced down to see the familiar shelter logo as well as this gentleman's name. She had no idea how to pronounce that doozy of a first name, so she aimed for his last name. "Thanks, Mr. um…Gropius? Did I say that right?"

"Close enough. What about you? We've been chatting for nearly thirty minutes, but the only thing I know about you is you work for Myrtle Tuscarora."

Oh! Where were her manners!? Cynthia held out her hand to shake, but realized a split second later she'd held out the wrong hand. She'd completely forgotten about Mr. Gropius's injured arm! After holding out the correct hand, she properly introduced herself. "My name is Cynthia. I'm helping Professor Myrtle right now, but I've worked for Professor Rowan and Professor Juniper before, too."

That seemed to catch the man's interest. "I see. This isn't your first regional challenge, then."

"No, sir. It's actually my third!" She excitedly pulled out her wallet to show off her two complete sets of badges, as well as her Lead Badge. "You're from Unova, right? I challenged your league just last year!"

She could see that news intrigued him. "That's very impressive. If you don't mind me asking, I have a question about your professor." She didn't have anything better to do until Cyrus came back, so why not? "Are the rumors true?"

Cynthia blinked. "Rumors?" He'd need to be more specific. Last Tuesday, Professor Sycamore informed her that Myrtle had a far from good reputation in the academic community. And just yesterday, Kai made a slew of rude remarks regarding Myrtle's drinking problem and the poor battling quality of her starter Eevees. She even threw around accusations that Myrtle had bullied another professor until she snapped. There was honestly no telling what Mr. Gropius was talking about. "What rumors?"

Before Mr. Gropius could clarify what he meant, the front door opened and two familiar faces stumbled in. Isaac's freckled face was ruddy from overexertion, but that was nothing compared to Cyrus. He had to lean on Isaac just to remain upright. His breathing was quick, ragged, and occasionally punctuated by coughing fits; but at least he seemed to be in good spirits.

"CYNTHIA!" Isaac called out loud enough for everyone in the lobby to turn their heads. Even Mr. Gropius stood up to see what all the hubbub was about. And poor Cyrus. He was covering his ears and looked thoroughly embarrassed. "GOOD NEWS! HE GOT THE BADGE!"

Cyrus's entire body turned pink and shook from embarrassment. He tried to hide his face in his hands and groaned.

"You did!?" To confirm with Cynthia, Cyrus pulled one hand away and held up what was very obviously a badge. "That's awesome, Cyrus! I'm so proud of you!"

"Is that your friend?" Mr. Gropius asked. When Cynthia nodded her head, the man chuckled and started to leave. "I won't keep you, then. You two have a wonderful day."

"Thanks! You too!" Cynthia practically jumped from the couch and darted over toward her friends.

Up close, she could see that Cyrus was on the verge of collapse. His legs were wobbly from having biked halfway across the city, and the additional anxiety from being put in the spotlight certainly hadn't helped. He needed a moment to not only catch his breath, but also sit down.

Cynthia offered one of her arms to keep him stable and began guiding him toward the couch. Cyrus tried to talk, but all he could do was cough. "Isaac? Would you mind getting us some water? Or coffee, maybe?"

"Sure! No problem!" He was all smiles and gave Cyrus one last pat on the back. "Good job today, buddy. You were great!"

The moment Isaac was out of earshot, Cynthia shot Cyrus a glance. "Are you okay? I know you hate being put on the spot like that."

"I'm fine," he wheezed, still panting for air. "Just…didn't know he'd…make a...scene…" It took a while for him to catch his breath. When he finally did, the redness in his face began to dissipate. "We biked the whole way back. That's probably more cardio than I've done in two years."

"Does your heart feel like it's gonna explode?" When he nodded, Cynthia bit back a little laugh. "Okay. I know how you feel. Isaac and his buddies wanted to race to the Riviera on Wednesday. We must have biked halfway across the city." Her legs were still sore.

Cyrus's Eevee was in a good mood, even more so than usual. He kept brushing against his trainer's legs and tried to climb in Cyrus's lap for more attention, even though the boy obviously needed to relax. Cynthia tried to shoo him away, but the little brat kept coming back.

Realizing Eevee wouldn't back off without some sort of reward, she decided to play a trick on him. She opened her bag, pretended to pull out a treat, and made a tossing motion. Loyal and sweet as Eevee was, he wasn't very bright. He chased after the imaginary treat, barking stupidly all the way down the hall.

"I'm really glad you won today. Did Golbat listen to you?" He slowly shook his head. "Wait; you beat Jet with _Eevee_?!"

Cyrus opened his wallet and pinned the Potassium Badge next to his Lead Badge. "Kind of…? Eevee never battled. He noticed I was struggling with Golbat, so he tried giving commands instead."

"And Golbat actually listened to him!?" Cyrus very quietly nodded. Cynthia noted some of the redness had returned to his cheeks, so she lowered her voice and shot him a supportive look. "Well, good on Eevee for having your back! I know this wasn't a conventional win, but at least Golbat shouldn't give you any more trouble."

"For a while, anyway," he grumbled. "I don't want to rely on Eevee too much."

Cynthia knew nothing about last night's phone call, or how close Cyrus came to asking Professor Myrtle if he could adopt his Eevee. The only reason he didn't was because Myrtle got sidetracked. By the time the conversation came back to Eevee, he realized he was in no position to ask such a thing. The professor would say no just to spite him.

If he and Cynthia didn't make it to Hydrargyrum City by Monday, Myrtle would take more than just their work visas. She'd take the Eevees, too. Cyrus could apply for a tourist visa if Myrtle fired him, but the prospect of saying goodbye to Eevee was giving him nightmares.

The Beldum he caught with his grandfather had been special, but only because someone he loved helped him catch it. He didn't have that Pokémon long enough to build a bond. If he'd meant anything to that Beldum, it would have sought him out and come back after Nichole released it. He never saw it again.

With Houndour and Murkrow trapped in quarantine, Eevee had become a pseudo-first Pokémon. Cyrus felt he finally understood what his grandfather tried to tell him about first Pokémon being special. Eevee's friendship left a warm, safe feeling in his heart. He trusted him, _loved_ him—but maybe it was selfish to think he could take him.

"You know I called Professor Myrtle last night, right?" He couldn't keep quiet about this. Cynthia was just as much in the doghouse as he was, maybe even more so. She needed to know. "She's not happy."

Where on earth did _that_ come from? Cynthia felt her heart tighten in her chest, but only slightly. No one wanted to hear their boss was upset with their performance, but Myrtle tended to gripe even on her good days. "Did she say why?" It wasn't until Cyrus went quiet and averted his eyes that she started to worry. "I'm serious, Cyrus! If we're doing something wrong—"

"It wasn't just one thing," he admitted. There was a loose piece of skin near one of his cuticles. He kept picking at it and pulled the skin back until Cynthia saw a few tiny droplets of blood. Just looking at made her fingers hurt. "First, she complained that we don't update her regularly enough."

"You were in the hospital!"

Cyrus sighed. His narrow shoulders proceeded to slouch, causing him to sink further into his seat. "Yes, I was. When I told her that, she eased up because she didn't know. Then she asked me why you didn't call her."

What the hell!? That woman had literally told Cynthia not to call in the mornings because her voice gave her migraines! After hearing something so rude, she'd simply assumed Myrtle wouldn't want any updates from her. E-mails and secondhand accounts of activity through Cyrus or Campanella would—wait a minute! Something didn't add up!

"Campanella never told her you were injured?" She didn't even know why that surprised her. Campanella had been so caught up in her own stuff that it probably never crossed her mind. "What _else_ is she unhappy with!?"

"Our pace, apparently. She thinks we're dawdling." Cyrus ran a hand through his hair to get some of the loose strands out of his face. All he really managed to accomplish was getting everything to stick up more than it already did. "I had a pretty valid excuse for not challenging Jet until today, but…"

Cynthia huffed out a frustrated breath. "Let me guess: she wants to know why I didn't. I'm noticing a trend here," and she wasn't happy about it. Myrtle was making her sound like a fuck-up and Cynthia didn't appreciate that one bit. "I never had this problem before. Professor Rowan just assumed no news was good news. I'd only update him when there was actually, you know: an _update_. And Professor Juniper—"

"I'm not saying she's in the right here," Cyrus insisted. "She's not. I'm just saying that we need to tread very carefully, especially since she gave me an ultimatum."

Up until that point, the conversation had been more frustrating than upsetting. Hearing that Myrtle was disappointed in her stung; but an ultimatum made it sound like this entire journey was in jeopardy and could come to an abrupt, humiliating end. "What do you mean? What does she want?"

"We need to be in Hydrargyrum City by Monday. If we're not there, we're done."

That revelation hit Cynthia like a splash of ice cold water. All the color drained from her face. "How are we going to do that?" She reached for Cyrus's hands and squeezed them tightly. "I mean, I plan to challenge Jet this afternoon. But even if I beat him, how are we going to leave Kalium City? The Metro's closed. I don't have enough money for cab fare. Bailing Campanella out cost me every PokéDollar I had. We can't even afford the private room anymore!"

She didn't want to panic in front of her friend, but she couldn't hide her worry. "I don't even know what we're going to do tonight, aside from grab all our stuff and camp out in the public barracks. I feel so _bad_ about that because—"

"Cynthia?"

"You need your space! You're still recovering! You're—"

"Cynthia." Cyrus gave a weak squeeze back, hoping she'd ease up. Cynthia pulled her hands away immediately, probably because she realized a bit too late that she'd touched him without asking first. She parted her lips to apologize, but she didn't need to. Not this time. "I still have a little money. It's not enough for the room, but it's enough to take a taxi to the gym. It's a long ride. We can take that time to figure out what we're doing. That way, win or lose, we have a plan."

Sometimes she envied Cyrus's levelheadedness. He had a terrible week—probably way worse than she realized—but he still managed to keep his cool in this seemingly desperate situation. Her chest started to feel a bit less tight. It was easier to breathe. She didn't feel like she was on the verge of crying anymore.

"It's not the end of the world if she fires us," Cyrus insisted. "If she's stupid enough to do that, it's her loss. We'll just go to the Sinnohan consulate, apply for tourist visas, and treat this like any other Pokémon journey. We'll see it through all the way to the end."

Cynthia's entire face felt warm because she was trying not to cry. Things had a way of working out in the end. They were hard workers. If they had to remind Professor Myrtle of that, then so be it. The way Cyrus looked at her made it feel like he was already trying to come up with a Plan B. With each second that passed, Cynthia felt a tiny bit better.

"You promise?" He didn't say yes, but he gave her a tiny smile and a quick nod. "Thanks. I'd hug your right now, if I thought you'd—"

Those skinny arms wrapped around her so quickly that it took her a second to process what was happening. He was so close that she could smell the cheap laundry detergent on Cyrus's clothes. She could feel the warmth from his body, as well as the slow rise and fall of his ribs as he breathed.

Sometimes actions spoke louder than words.


	51. Cool Your Jets!

**Author's Note: For any readers who like to jam out to "mood music" during chapters, feel free to tune in to the "radio" during the taxi ride scene. For the Top 40 piece, search for "Bez Tebya" (Без тебя) by Marina Zhuravleva. Once things switch to classical, search for "Isle of the Dead, Op. 29" by Sergei Vasilievich** **Rachmaninov.**

 **This release will be a double feature: this chapter as well as a supplemental chapter. We're so close to the end of the Kalium City arc! I hope you've enjoyed it, but I also hope you're excited to see what new adventures await our heroes in the next arc: Hydrargyrum City!**

 **One other side note involves another region briefly mentioned in this chapter: Dóxa. This region is currently in the process of being co-drafted with my friend Julia (seiauton). Feel free to check out her FF library, too! She's an amazing writer!**

…

From what Cyrus had seen of Kalium City so far, he estimated that it was roughly the same size as his hometown. Sunyshore City wasn't very large, but it was still big enough that he could go weeks or even months without seeing the same stranger in a crowd. Unless he actively sought out a specific person (which was quite rare), he could go about his own business and never see a familiar face.

And yet time and space conspired together to bring him an unwanted coincidence. The moment he stepped outside to flag a taxi, one of the black and yellow cars parked outside the Lodge. The door opened, and there was Eric. "Hey! Guess what? Lulu didn't puke!"

"Thank whatever god you believe in," the cab driver growled, "because I'd have kicked the both of you to the curb if she did!"

Eric needed a direct path to the door, so Cyrus held it open and Cynthia offered to grab Lulu's shoes. The girl had somehow managed to slide both of them off her long, skinny feet.

"What on earth happened to her?" Despite asking that question, Cynthia was almost afraid to hear the answer.

"Nothing too serious," Eric insisted, but it was clear he could barely contain his laughter. "Her dumb ass decided to play a drinking game during Cyrus's battle. Each time Golbat dicked around instead of listening to Cyrus; she took a swig."

"Seriously, Lulu? You did this during a _morning_ battle? What's wrong with you?"

Eric had Lulu draped over his shoulder like a shawl. Lulu reached for her thick glasses, looked Cynthia straight in the eye; and gave the frankest, sassiest answer she could. "I'm drunk. What's wrong with _you?_ "

When Eric walked, he bounced her around a bit. Each time, Lulu groaned and weakly slapped his broad back. "Don't worry. We're not gonna dump her in the corner of the room and forget about her. Is Isaac back yet?" Cyrus grunted a quick _uh-huh_. "Good! I'm gonna see if he wants to watch shitty Kinzonian movies until Lulu sobers up. Do you think the Lodge Owner will let us borrow his trash can?"

Before Cyrus could answer, the cab driver honked his horn. "Hellooooo?" the driver shouted. "Do you two kids need a ride or not?"

"Yes, sir. We do!" Cynthia hurried over and gently tugged on Cyrus's coat to get him to follow her. "Can you take us to the Kalium City Gym?" Wanting to make doubly sure that this was okay, she turned to Cyrus one last time. After all; he'd be the one footing the bill for this, not her.

The driver scratched the back of his tan, sunburned neck. It was covered in short, curly, snow white hairs. "I can get you close to it. That gym is at the very top of the Zykova Stairs. I can park the car at the very bottom and let you two walk it yourselves. Will that do?"

"Yes." Cyrus opened the door and gestured for Cynthia to get in first. She easily could have opened the door herself, but he wanted to be nice to her. She really seemed to appreciate the gesture. "How much extra would it cost to drive around Katarina Square before you drop us off?"

If they weren't such in a rush to get to the next city, he knew Cynthia would want to explore every public building in the square. They couldn't do that, but they could easily take the scenic route. It was the least he could do.

"Aaaaaaah. You want the drive-by tour?"

' _Cyrus, you sly creature!_ ' Internally, Cynthia was begging the cab driver not to name a price outside of Cyrus's acceptable range. This very much spoke to her interests and he knew that! He specifically asked for this, just to make her bad day a little less terrible.

Well…partially, anyway. Ever the pragmatist, Cyrus had an ulterior motive. Extra time in the taxi meant more time to map out an action plan. He had already seen Katarina Square, so his feelings wouldn't be hurt if he missed out on any sightseeing. "Yes, sir. How much?"

"A ride like that will run you about 700 PokéDollars. Does that sound fair?"

Even without looking at Cynthia, he knew she was watching him. She was probably even muttering _please, please, please_ under her breath. "Tell us about the area and I'll give you 800."

The driver took the money and laughed. His mustache was so thick and long that Cyrus couldn't see his mouth. "Thank you, comrade! I'd be delighted to tell you about the square!"

There was no sign of the cantankerous codger who honked the horn less than a minute ago. Money had magically transformed him into a kindly old man. How interesting. Cyrus didn't completely buy the act, but he'd play along for now.

Once everyone was buckled up, the taxi driver fiddled with the radio and turned it to a Top 40 station. At least he kept it to a low volume so they could still talk over the bubbly, girly synth-pop singer. "Lots of people are complaining about the police closing off the Metro, but it's been good business for me. Most people want to ride the Metro because it's free, but Kalium City doesn't have that many stations."

"I noticed that." Cynthia played with a loose strand of hair, twisting it around her finger. "I would have thought a city this big would have a lot of stations. Plumbum City had one every ten blocks. Aren't you close to the same size?"

"Believe it or not, we're actually a little bigger! Extra stations would be useful, but we can't build them because of all the old tunnels beneath the city. Unless the people building the Metro know what they're doing, they could cause cave-ins…or wake up something that was better off staying asleep."

 _'He's talking about the Kalium Catacombs.'_ Just thinking about that place made Cyrus's skin crawl. There were things in those tunnels he wished he hadn't seen.

Funeral-ready corpses were all dolled up with makeup and pumped to the gills with formaldehyde so they gave off the illusion of only being asleep. The things in the tunnels didn't even look human anymore. They more closely resembled horror movie props: too grotesque to seem real—and yet they were. That was one place he'd rather not explore again, Abra or no Abra.

If Cynthia had paid more attention to Cyrus than what was outside her window, she probably would have asked him if he was alright. He caught a glimpse of his reflection. Even by his already sallow standards, he looked pale.

For the next few minutes, Cynthia and the driver chatted back and forth about the city. Most of it was stuff Cyrus had already heard from Renata: that Kalium City was built over a city that burned to the ground, that Katarina Square was all that remained of old Kaliygorod, and so on.

It felt like a perfect time to pull out his notebook and start mapping out a logic tree. Trees were a good way to list decisions in a way that made sense. If X, then Y. The point was to list an outcome or action, and then add "branches" for every potential consequence.

To begin, he put a stick figure with a ponytail at the top of the page: Cynthia. Two branches went beneath her: WIN and LOSE. Beneath WIN, he branched two more outcomes: ON TIME and TOO LATE. He then went toward LOSE and drew an arrow back to the top as one outcome: a sign that Cynthia would have to repeat the action if she lost…but also branched onto TOO LATE.

It continued. If they were on time, the crisis was averted. They would continue as usual until Professor Myrtle found something else to criticize. If they were too late; Myrtle could terminate their contracts, void their work visas, and demand her Eevees back. Should that happen, the answer boiled down to one word: CONSULATE.

Putting it down on paper was therapeutic, almost meditative. He was tempted to show Cynthia his first draft, but her face was plastered to the glass. Like that, she resembled a child spotting the welcome gate for her favorite amusement park. "Cyrus, look! That must be Katarina Square!"

"Hm?" He glanced up, just to make sure. "Yeah, that's it. Enjoy."

"Don't worry! I will!" Cynthia whipped out her camera and pushed the button so many times that Cyrus half worried she'd break it. "How old are those buildings, sir?"

"Hm?" The driver switched the Top 40 station to a classical station, just to amplify the mood. "Don't quote me on this, but I think they're early 19th Century. Kaliygorod was built during the time of Katarina the Incredible. She was a princess from a kingdom just west of us and married into the imperial family. The tsar went mad, so she took over his duties and reclaimed some land we lost to Kalos. You'll see a statue of her right next to the Kalium Gym."

Cyrus remembered. It was to the left. Cynthia would probably want a candid shot for her scrapbook, and that seemed like the perfect place to take such a picture.

"But in order to understand the significance of this place, you would have to go back centuries before Katarina. I don't know how familiar you are with Kinzonian history, but does it interest you?" Cynthia didn't even skip a beat. She nodded her head excitedly. "I'm glad! Do you have any idea how rare it is to find tourists who let me ramble about my town? Do you mind if I talk about the tsars?"

Cyrus internally groaned. It wasn't so much how much the man talked, but how loudly he did it. It was impossible to concentrate with that much noise in the car. ' _Don't say sure. Don't say sure. Don't say—_ "

"Sure! I'd love to learn more!"

' _Goddammit, Cynthia._ ' She was too caught up in the moment to notice Cyrus had rolled his eyes.

"Roughly three hundred years ago, Ermengarde the Mad—one of our tsarinas—lost a major battle against Kalos and the Holy Dóxan Empire. For centuries, Kinzo was constantly being invaded and occupied by other nations. Our tsars had very little power and oftentimes had to make bad deals with foreign leaders.

"Later, when Katarina became a ruling tsarina; she stopped paying tribute money to the invaders and tried to take Kinzo back. This square is where the reclamation started. By the time Katarina died, she reclaimed two thirds of south Kinzo and half of the north."

Cyrus had since given up on his logic map. The driver was too loud and Cynthia was too history-drunk to care. Although she didn't say anything, she was wiggling around so much that Cyrus could feel her from his seat. She lived and breathed for this sort of thing. If she didn't have a Gym Leader to fight, she would have probably listened to this driver all day.

The driver began to slow down, taking his time so the kids could view every beautiful limestone building. "But good things never last, do they? Katarina was our last good tsar. Our last one was little more than a spineless puppet who wanted to impress his foreign allies. He pressured the entire country to rename our cities, just so foreigners would have an easier time pronouncing them. _Vestigorod_ became Plumbum City, _Kaliygorod_ became Kalium City, and so on."

To Cynthia, this added context gave her further appreciation for the world around her. It gave her opportunities to understand the heart and soul of a place. But to Cyrus, all he could focus on was the way the driver's hands tightened on the steering wheel and the subtle way his tone had shifted to something notably less friendly.

Initially, the taxi driver sounded proud of his city: like he was delighted to have an opportunity to share its history with a couple of appreciative young foreigners. There was something else now: something understated, but still noticeable. It almost felt like the driver resented them for turning his home into a tourist attraction.

In that moment, all Cyrus could think about was the mural with the faceless woman.

"The locals protested, of course. That riot ended with the city engulfed in flames and most of the population dead. Kaliygorod was rebuilt under the new name. What you see out there is all that's left of the old one. We, eh…we try not to advertise that part of our history to tourists. It only comes up when they ask or they genuinely seem interested in getting to know us. This phenomenon isn't limited to only my city, either. If you dig too deeply into any part of Kinzo's history, you'll find landmines."

' _That's quite a landmine._ ' Plumbum City hadn't exactly been friendly, but it never made Cyrus this anxious. He was sick and tired of this two-faced town. Were the locals proud of it, or did they hate it?

He was more inclined to believe the latter. If they truly loved this city, they would have spared no expense to restore it. Instead, all that existed outside Katarina Square were rows of identically hideous, mundane, shoddily-built apartment buildings and international chain restaurants. This was the new Kalium City: Everyplace, Everywhere.

Culture be damned.

…

Just as Cyrus thought, Cynthia wanted to get a picture with Katarina the Incredible. He offered to take the camera, but she insisted she wanted a picture with the both of them. When a group of old ladies passed by, Cynthia flagged them down and asked if they minded taking a few photos. Thankfully, they were good sports about it. One of them even wanted to join the picture!

The moment the women left, Cynthia grinned at Cyrus and lightly bumped her shoulder against his. "Thanks for humoring me with the drive-by tour, Cyrus. I loved it."

"I'm glad you had fun." Sometimes he worried that he didn't show how appreciative he was for her companionship on this journey. While Cyrus was certain he could have functioned in Kinzo by himself, having somebody like Cynthia around made everything feel more alive. The days were more interesting. If he could say _thank you_ in tiny little ways, he wanted to do it.

"It's such a shame that I have to blitz this gym so we can leave. If Professor Myrtle didn't have us in a choke hold, I could have easily spent two days just touring the Square. I mean, _look_ at it!" Her arms were outstretched, her eyes full of wonder. "I didn't see anything remotely close to this in the last town!"

"What about Ædranos?" Cyrus countered. It was another ancient town lost in the shadows of time, just like Kaliygorod.

"Oh, come on. You knew what I meant!"

Cynthia could barely contain her excitement. The Kalium Gym was truly a work of art: a dazzling masterpiece of architecture. It just looked out of place compared to the clunky, run-down city at the bottom of the stairs. No wonder Jet acted like an entitled douchebag. He got to work inside the most beautiful building in the city!

Next to one of the Arcanine statues guarding the building's exterior was a brass plaque with nearly a full page's worth of information on it. Cynthia hurried over to read it, but frowned when she realized there wasn't an international translation. That was one Kalium City trend she hoped didn't continue in Hydrargyrum City. "I know you've been studying Kinzonian. How, uh…how good are you?"

"I started on _Monday,_ Cynthia. The only thing I can read on that plaque is the date."

"Oh well. It was worth a shot." She cleared her throat, reached for the door, and bit back a laugh when she saw an entire lobby full of Jet Melkadzes. He was on every medium known to man: canvas, mass produced posters, billboards, coins, metal plates, and so much more! The part that cracked her up the most were the department store mannequins that had clearly been designed with Jet in mind. "Wooooow. Narcissistic much?"

"Do you want to pose with him?" Cyrus teased, holding up the camera. The look Cynthia shot him made it all too clear that no, she did not. "You don't have to be reverent, you know. It's not like Jet's—"

"Why, helloooooooo! Long time no see, pretty girl!"

The burger in Cynthia's stomach did a backflip when she heard that voice. Jet had never been anything other than annoying toward her; but he'd creeped on Campanella. And if she added what Kai and the lady who ran Café Khismatullina told her, the end result wasn't a very flattering portrait. He was just gross: an immature man-child who thought his good looks gave him a free pass to say and do whatever he damn well pleased.

Not today. Not with her.

"Hey." Hopefully, that one word was deadpan enough for this meathead to realize she wasn't interested. Just in case it wasn't, she rolled her eyes and reached inside her coat for her Poké Balls. One was perfectly still, but the other vibrated in anticipation.

"And hello again, Comrade Akagi!" Jet waved at Cyrus and held out his hand to shake. Cyrus very awkwardly took it, despite obviously not wanting to. "Let me guess: you're embarrassed that your Golbat listened to your Eevee instead of you. Is that why you came back with your cute girlfriend for a rematch?"

Pretty. Cute. Cynthia noticed a trend, and it thoroughly grossed her out. "He's not your challenger, Jet. I am." As for the other part, she saw no reason to correct him. If Jet thought she and Cyrus—

"And she's _not_ my girlfriend."

' _Dammit, Cyrus! Learn to read the room!_ ' Cynthia glared at him for advertising the fact they weren't together, but Cyrus was too busy reaching for his notebook to notice.

"Oh?" When her eyes returned to Jet, his demeanor had slightly changed. Initially, he seemed perfectly content to tease Cyrus and herself. Now that he knew a cute girl was fair game, something in his Mankey brain switched from off to on. His cocky frat boy-esque smile changed into something a bit more suave—not that it would work on Cynthia. She wasn't even remotely close to interested in this arrogant jackass "You're single?"

"I'm half your age, sir!" Cynthia snarled. "You're…what? Thirty!?"

If she thought that would be enough to stop the creepy advances, she was sadly mistaken. Jet just hugged his sides and laughed loud enough to get some of his posters to shake. "So what? When do you turn sixteen? If I beat you, why don't we—"

"Don't even FINISH that thought because you won't!" While it was possible that Jet said this to fluster her and throw her off her game; she doubted he was smart or pragmatic enough to pull a stunt like that. More than likely, he was just a creep. Cynthia didn't care to stick around long enough to find out what was the truth. "Come on out, Eevee! We're doing this!"

Cyrus's Eevee had practically begged to prove himself in combat, but Cynthia's Eevee didn't share his enthusiasm. He lifted his thick wedge head and scowled. "Vee." No part of him wished to tussle with this brute's big, brawny Pokémon. He tucked all four of his feet beneath his fluffy body and turned himself into a loaf.

The more Cynthia tried to coax him into following her to the gym's arena, the faster Eevee's tail swished. It thumped on the floor with enough force to be audible. One last time, Cynthia tried to incentivize his participation in the battle, but Eevee didn't want to budge. She could command him with her Lead Badge, but she didn't want to result to that. He was probably just upset that she'd put him in his Poké Ball.

Picking him up didn't work, either. Eevee dug his claws into the nubby carpet and refused to leave the ground. Only a couple of nails came loose, making a sound reminiscent of peeling Velcro. "Okay. Fine. I don't think I need to use you in this fight, anyway." One of Eevee's ears perked up when he heard that. "You heard me, mister! You can sit this one out."

Whether Professor Myrtle fired them or they made it all the way to Ferrum Town, that Eevee would eventually need to be returned. It wasn't hers. As such, Cynthia didn't want to rely on him too heavily. Sure, she had hoped Eevee would want to be the front runner in this fight; but the chances of him getting past even one of Jet's Pokémon were rather slim. She could do this without him.

Something she said must have tickled Jet's funny bone, because he roared with laughter. "You want to challenge me with just one Pokémon, pretty girl? If you win, I'll pay double!" Confidence exuded from every pore in his body. "You won't win, though. You'll leave here with a one-time-use night permit so I can take you out to dinner."

Thank Arceus he didn't make a comment about her being dessert. She could tell he was thinking it, but he had enough common sense not to say it aloud.

Cynthia's fingers squeezed Spiritomb's ball so tightly that her knuckles turned white. She wanted to appear stoic, hiding in all the anger she felt, but she'd never been a good actress. "Cyrus, I want you to take Eevee and find a front row seat. I'm going to teach this jerk a lesson about respecting girls. Jet!"

The Kalium Gym Leader stood at the top of the stairs and flexed his arms. He was large enough to touch both sides of the railing. "Да?"

"The bet's on! I'm only using one Pokémon, but it won't show mercy to any of yours!"

She was serious, but Jet clearly saw this as some sort of joke. "When Simon warned me to say somebody bested him on the first try, it wasn't _your_ name I heard. You think you're something special, don't you?"

Cynthia didn't humor him with a response. She certainly saw herself as an accomplished Pokémon trainer and a talented battler, but anyone could do that if they invested as much time and dedication to technique as she had. That didn't make her special; just experienced. ' _I don't have to be special to beat you. I just have to be careful with my commands._ '

Once they were in the converted auditorium and near the battle arena, Cyrus searched for a seat that would give him a good view. The moment he found one, he nudged Cynthia's shoulder and leaned in to whisper something. "I hope you know what you're doing. Jet acts like a meathead, but don't let that fool you. When I fought him—"

"Come ooooon, pretty girl! We're wasting daylight!" Jet jumped into the arena, grabbed hold of an airborne swing, and did a rather impressive set of flips and somersaults until he finally made it to the center stadium. When he landed, he struck a pose and waited for both of his onlookers to applaud him for his acrobatic skills. Both kids gave the slowest, most sarcastic claps they could manage. "Oh please! Like either one of you could do this!"

No, they couldn't. And there was no way Cynthia planned to follow his lead. If she tried to copy that move; she'd break an arm, a leg, or her neck. Instead, she grabbed the railing and began her descent down the stairs. By now, Spiritomb's Poké Ball had begun to thrash with anticipation. It wanted out right now. "I'm coming, Jet. Call out your first."

Jet pulled out his first ball and threw it into the left side of the arena. "You're up, Croagunk! Don't fail me now!"

' _A Croagunk, huh?_ _At least I've battled one of those before!_ ' There wasn't much point in announcing what her Pokémon was. Spiritomb's presence was ominous enough that a greeting wasn't necessary.

The moment its stone touched the floor, Spiritomb grinned evilly at Jet's Croagunk and started to cackle. The blue frog shuddered and took a few steps back, not even remotely enthused with the prospect of going near that thing. He tried to get his trainer's attention, but Jet had turned three shades lighter. "How…how do you have a…how long have you been in Kinzo!?"

Oh, she was going to relish this! Maybe it wasn't nice to get this much pleasure out of someone else's discomfort, but Jet had this a long time coming. She gave her sweetest, most ladylike smile because she could tell this really made him uncomfortable. "Just shy of two weeks. Why?"

"How do you have that?!" Jet just kept pointing, mouth hanging open in surprise. "Spiritombs are—"

"Please use Confuse Ray, Spiritomb." If all Jet was going to do was blather on, she may as well strike first. Spiritomb wasted no time. If it was given any opportunity to cause harm to another living thing, the wrathful ghost never hesitated. If anything, it relished those moments. All of the purple fog around Spiritomb glowed so bright that Cynthia had to avert her eyes.

Croagunk didn't. He stared, dumbfounded, and lost his balance. When the blue frog's rump hit the well-oiled hardwood floor, it let loose a squeak so loud that even Cyrus and Eevee could hear it from the mezzanine seats.

"H-hey, Croagunk? You okay, comrade?"

No. Croagunk was _not_ okay. That became all too apparent when he punched himself in the mouth hard enough to knock out a couple of teeth. The frog screeched at his fist in anger—thinking it was an attacker rather than a part of his own body—and chomped down. Now his fist hurt, too! He had to teach his mouth another lesson. Bam! Bam!

The worst part was Spiritomb's far from subtle elation over the other Pokémon's pain. The more Croagunk hurt himself in confusion, the louder Spiritomb laughed at his expense. What started as a mean-spirited snicker broke into a gruesome crescendo of hellish cackling. The noise was so loud that it felt like the entire arena was occupied with malicious souls: each eager to watch Jet Melkadze fail and fall.

"Spiritomb?" Cynthia wanted to end this quickly for Croagunk's sake. "You might want to finish him off with a Psychic. This is just embarrassing." An array of rainbow rays blasted through the arena. Croagunk's eyes were so wide that nobody could see his eyelids. His pupils turned into tiny pin-pricks and he collapsed in a heap. "Call out your next Pokémon, Jet. We can do this all day."

"Grrrrr…" Did he just growl at her!? For all the playful posturing and cheeky jokes Jet made earlier, now all he could do was grumble profanities under his breath and throw his next Poké Ball in the ring. It took him a while to form audible words again. By the time he did, his face was starting to turn red. "How do you even HAVE that?! The quarantine—"

"Are you asking me if I smuggled a Pokémon through Customs?" The very thought of that made her shake her head. As much as she loved Gible, Roselia, and Riolu; she wasn't about to break a country's laws just to have them with her. If Kinzo had a quarantine, she'd adhere to it. "I can assure you I didn't. Spiritomb's every bit as Kinzonian as you are. I caught it in the Ædranos Ruins."

Sometimes Spiritomb listened to her. Other times, it didn't. She honestly had no idea what level it was at, but she didn't want a situation similar to what Cyrus had with his Golbat. If she could do little things to make Spiritomb happy, or at least leave it feeling respected, she'd do them. So far, so good. It seemed just as eager to take down Jet as she was.

Jet threw his next ball into the arena, calling out a Meditite. "DETECT!" he yelled, taking advantage of the first moment of silence.

' _Alright, Jet. I see what you're doing. You picked something with a Psychic type to cover a gap in your lineup. It's not a bad plan; but it's not going to save you, either!_ ' Cynthia whistled to get her Spiritomb's attention and smiled at it. "Hey there. Your next move probably won't land a hit, but I wanted you to know that's okay. You're doing great. I'm really proud of you."

Spiritomb's green "eyes" squinted at Cynthia, as though it wanted to search her face for any trace of an ulterior motive. ' ** _We don't require any pleasantries, girl. Just tell us what you want us to do._** '

It always felt weird when Spiritomb "talked" to her. The words went directly into her head: not to be heard or witnessed by anyone else. Once she stopped feeling like her skin was covered in tiny insects, Cynthia cleared her throat and gave her command. "Ominous Wind," she decided. "And if you miss, do it again. It's the best move you have for this thing."

Spiritomb did as it was told, but it was no use. Just as Cynthia anticipated, Meditite detected and dodged the attack. She expected Spiritomb to hiss or make some other kind of angry noise, but it didn't. It seemed calm, perhaps even eager. Whatever Jet chose to do next, it would sit there and ready itself to use Ominous Wind again.

Jet guffawed, clearly happy that he could pull one over on Spiritomb. "There's plenty more where that came from! Meditite, use Bide!"

Meditite did as instructed and closed her eyes. She planned to build up energy, channel whatever damage she took, and deliver it twofold back to Spiritomb…assuming she survived.

She wouldn't.

Cynthia didn't even have to give the command. Her Pokémon knew what to do and it didn't waste any time. Another torrent of glittery purple wind blasted out of its body and launched itself directly at its opponent. The Meditite didn't even have time to open her eyes or break her meditation. Instead, she slouched over and collapsed on the floor.

She clapped her hands for Spiritomb excitedly, but she wasn't the only one. Cyrus was offering polite, muffled applause from the audience. Even Cynthia's Eevee seemed to be intrigued by how the battle was going. He'd crawled all the way to the edge of the balcony and poked his head through the railing.

"Hey!" Cynthia called out to Cyrus. "How many more does he have?"

"Just the Hariyama! You're almost done!"

She remembered that Hariyama. When Jet rescued Cyrus from the Battle Car, he'd used Hariyama to carry him to the snowmobile. Spiritomb had a strong type advantage, so Cynthia wasn't even worried. "You've got this, Spiritomb! If you can knock that Hariyama out with Psychic, we're in the clear!"

When Jet's Hariyama came out of his ball, he stomped into the arena and caused everything to shake. He readied his stance and stared at Spiritomb, breathing slowly and heavily. His entire chest was puffed out, possibly to make himself look even larger than he already was. The Pokémon's massive hands itched to pick up Spiritomb by the stone and chuck it across the arena, but he had to wait for Jet to issue a command. He wasn't going to act without one.

And Spiritomb knew that. It grinned at Hariyama with its brightest, greenest smile and immediately launched a Psychic attack. The bright lights that knocked out Croagunk with no trouble flashed across the room.

Hariyama braced itself, but still took a significant amount of damage. He was hurt, but not out of commission just yet. He could hear his trainer call out an attack, but it was too late. Spiritomb didn't even give Hariyama a chance to prepare himself before it blasted the same attack: this time with enough intensity that even the humans felt it.

Cynthia could hear her Spiritomb laughing in her head. It bounced off every angle of her skull's interior and drilled deep into her brain. Each laugh felt like hissing steam trying to escape a tea kettle, but there was nowhere left for it to go. When the attack ended, she felt something hot and wet coming out of her nose. Glancing down, she saw two red droplets on the floor.

Cyrus shut his eyes to avoid the brunt of the attack, but it didn't help much. The pressure in his head was so intense that he felt like his eyes were going to explode. It was only for a couple of seconds, but the migraine would probably persist for the remainder of the day.

"GAAAAAAAH!"

As uncomfortable as the Psychic felt for the teenagers, that was nothing compared to how Jet reacted. He clutched the sides of his head and twisted his thick fingers deep into his dark hair. Pained grunts came out of his throat as he made all kinds of grotesque grimaces on his usually charming face. If he clenched his jaw any tighter, he could have cracked a tooth.

The pain was so bad that he ended up vomiting. He doubled over, hugging his ribs and stomach. Most of it hit the floor, but some got stuck in his beard and dribbled onto the front of his red track jacket. He coughed, sputtered, and retched until he finally regained his composure…or so Cynthia thought.

He staggered toward her, black eyes burning with rage and his nose dripping with blood. In his shaking hand was a Potassium Badge, which he then proceeded to angrily shove in her face. "FINE! YOU WIN! NOW PUT THAT THING BACK IN ITS BALL AND GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

Cyrus may have been used to people shouting at him, but Cynthia wasn't. Raised voices scared her. She didn't want to look afraid in front of this asshole, but she couldn't stop her legs from shaking. She cautiously lifted one hand to take her prize, but she also made note of how tightly that man could hold something with only two fingers. It took all her strength to pry the badge away.

Even though Cyrus was making his way down the stairs to come get her, Jet was so big that he blocked Cynthia's view. He was all she could see, smell, and hear. The veins in the Gym Leader's temple and neck were throbbing. Cynthia smelled the acid from the vomit as well as a significant amount of sweat mixed with Jet's cedar cologne. She felt his hot, humid breath on her face and heard every slow, deliberate huff.

Hoping to put some distance between them, Cynthia took a step back. The man grabbed her wrist before she could go any further. "What?" Her heart was beating five times too fast. All she wanted to do was get away, or at least scream. All that came out instead was a quiet, nervous voice she didn't even recognize. "What are you doing? Let go."

But he didn't. She tried to pull her arm out of his grip, but he was too strong. The more she struggled, the darker Jet's expression became. She heard Cyrus say something, but couldn't make out what it was over the sound of Jet's labored breathing. The big man crouched down, leaned his mouth next to her ear, and whispered something:

"18 hours. That's how long you have to get the hell out of my city."

Cynthia's eyes grew big. Her whole body couldn't stop shaking. She wanted to ask Jet how he expected her to do that with the Metro closed off, but all she could do was squeak. Although she knew it was in her best interest to run, her legs were firmly rooted in place: too scared to even budge.

"The KSP will give up their manhunt at midnight. I assured them that if I found anyone matching the description of the girl who bombed the train, I'd take her out myself. You're a dead ringer for what was reported on the news, pretty girl. No one's gonna miss you."

It took all Cynthia's willpower to work up enough courage to move, but she didn't get very far. All she managed to do was tug her arm, but Jet held her in place. Clearly, he wasn't done.

The way he smiled made her blood run cold. That was the smile of a man who had probably killed before and wouldn't hesitate to kill again. "The Kalium City Metro stations will reopen at 6 AM sharp. I expect you to take that train. If you dawdle…or linger…or take a later train…I'm afraid they'll have to report another delay."

For a brief moment, her heart stopped. Jet let go and gave her a firm nudge in the direction of the exit, but Cynthia fell over and landed on her knees. She at least managed to brace herself by holding out her hands, but this had seriously rattled her. Cyrus wasn't just walking anymore. He was running. Once he made it to the final set of steps, he jumped and hurried over to her side.

"What happened?" he asked, reaching to pull her back up to her feet. "What on earth did he say to you?"

"L-later," she murmured, trying her best to get her feet to work. "I'll tell you later…"


	52. (SUPPLEMENTAL) The Kalium Metro Bomber

**Author's Note: I figured this release would work best as a double feature, since most of it is a retelling of the previous chapter from Jet's perspective. Beyond that, this supplemental chapter also includes some additional context.**

 **All of this information is something Cynthia** ** _could_** **have asked about in this arc, but never did. She had ample opportunities to do so (e.g. Chapters 33, 34, and 45), but declined due to her personal dislike for Jet as a person. It's an understandable mistake, but it was still a mistake.**

 **Some of my veteran beta readers (who knew me from other fandoms and read some of my past works) knew my writing style well enough to recognize something was "off" with Jet. They honed in whenever he appeared and tried to put the pieces together—but I made it difficult to do that since he's competing with much more interesting information. After all, what would** ** _you_** **rather read about: the other side of AZ's ancient war, tyrannical ancient tsars, Sergei Vasiliev's military coup, tunnel cryptids like the "Bout"…or a narcissistic fuckboy?**

 **The Kalium City Arc (which will be wrapping up in just a few more chapters!) sets the mood for how some of these later towns will operate. It might not hurt to read arcs like the Kalium Arc multiple times, each time choosing to focus on one particular subplot, character, or subject. Once you know what to look for, the chapters' context will change and it won't feel quite the same.**

 **Welcome to Kinzo.**

 **Also, if ANY of you readers are fluent in Russian and are interested in helping me with those parts of the story, please PM me! I'd like to work out some sort of arrangement that benefits both of us. Thanks!**

 **…**

"Новых лидов нет?"

Jet hated contacting the KSP. He knew the operative on the other side of the videophone could see and hear him, but all he received in response was a badly pixelated rendition of the Kinzonian flag and a voice so heavily auto-tuned that he couldn't tell the age or sex of the agent. That could be a fourteen-year-old girl, or it could be an eighty-one-year-old man who smoked four cartons of cigarettes a day.

For all he knew, he could even be talking to the head of KSP: Comrade Sokolov himself.

Like Jet, Aldous Sokolov was a local darling: a terrifyingly powerful Pokémon trainer who had once represented Kalium City as part of Kinzo's Elite Four. Instead of specializing in a particular type, everything in that man's party served the same end purpose: mind control and interrogation. Those Pokémon read minds, invaded dreams, implanted false memories, and could even force their will upon others.

Jet knew Sokolov still lived in the city. Sometimes he'd see him in line at the supermarket or taking his son to see a movie, but Jet was too scared to approach him. Sokolov's Kinzo League career ended when Sergei Vasiliev was overthrown, but he still ran the KSP. It wasn't like the League regulated his lineup anymore. For all Jet knew, he'd only become more dangerous after his side lost the coup.

Every time he talked to the KSP, Jet pretended Sokolov was on the other end of the phone. That was the worst case scenario, but it felt plausible considering his own degree of importance. Gym Leaders were employed by the Kinzonian government and expected to be ambassadors to their towns. Jet was the name and face of Kalium City: their entire reputation personified.

He was also expected to be a first responder to citywide emergencies and disasters. The Kalium Metro bombing counted as that, and Jet's inability to give the KSP anything of value weighed heavily against him. "Нет," he choked, knowing how bad this sounded. "Я прошу прощения."

"Блядь!" The digitally altered word would have sounded hilarious in a cartoon, but all Jet could do was shake in his chair. No amount of auto-tuning could mask how angry this agent was. He had picked up on mild disappointment earlier, but this went way beyond that. This person sounded like they wanted to hurt him. "Мы искали этот бомбардировщик с воскресенья. Воскресенье! Этот террорист спрятался в вашем городе почти неделю!"

Jet was all too aware that the bomber had gone undetected for nearly a week; but it wasn't like he sat around and did nothing! The police were conducting their own investigation, and Jet had reached out to several reporters to make sure the story was covered every night on the news. He couldn't control what went into the national news, but the bombing had been Kalium City's hottest story since Sunday.

Then, on Tuesday morning, a dumpy-looking reporter for the Kalium City Mirror visited the gym. She claimed to have been on the train and even battled the bomber. Naturally, Jet asked if she reported her findings to the KSP. Not only had the girl already done that, but she also gave an interview to the local news. It would be broadcast later that night.

For the time being, she planned to lay low and pose as a displaced tourist at the Kalium Trainers Lodge. Before leaving, she passed along her description of the bomber to Jet: **Young female (15-20), petite, long blonde hair. Black coat, mittens, pants, shirt, and boots. Could only confirm one Pokémon (Spiritomb).**

Jet had already reported this to the KSP, but it wasn't enough. Since Sunday, he had battled at least four girls who matched that description. Clothes could be changed, blonde hair could easily be dyed, and black was a _very_ popular color. Even the cute girl he rescued from the train matched this description, but he had no idea what sort of Pokémon she had.

By Tuesday night, he had more information. The woman who restored power to the train had also seen the bomber. She mentioned that the girl claimed allegiance to Team Sigma, so that surely ruled out any foreigners. They weren't just looking for a blonde girl with a tiny frame. Whoever she was, she was likely Kinzonian.

That complicated matters even further. Three of the challengers matching this description were Galarian and the fourth was Kalosian. There had never been any reports of Team Sigma activity outside of Kinzo. Either this bomber faked an accent well enough to fool Jet—which he doubted, considering he'd represented Kinzo in international PokéAthlons since he was fourteen—or every girl he'd faced was an innocent tourist with no connection to the bombing whatsoever.

This was why he felt hesitant to give these girls' names over to the KSP. Their interrogations were never gentle and sometimes turned fatal. They gave nothing but their worst behavior to foreigners, and Jet didn't want Kalium City to have that sort of reputation. He loved tourists!

A warped, distorted groan came from the videophone. "Вы уверены, что у вас нет подозреваемых? Даже не одна женщина?"

"Да." He'd let them down. There truly was nothing. "Я прошу прощения."

Aside from the manhunt, this had ironically been a good week for Kalium City. Since the whole city was under lockdown, all the trapped tourists decided to explore and see the sights. Trainers who already battled Jet climbed up the Zykova Stairs once more to request rematches. Jet even called Simon to ask if trapped trainers who hadn't defeated the Plumbum Gym could go out of sequence and face him first. Thankfully, Simon was a good sport and told him that was fine.

Jet had served as Kalium's Gym Leader for nine years. This was the busiest week he'd ever had. It was also the happiest he'd been in ages. For once, he knew what it was like to be as popular (or at least in as high demand) as Simon. It felt incredible! These bored people couldn't get enough of him and they kept coming back for more! He'd even gone on a few dinner dates with female opponents!

Even the sick boy he'd taken to the hospital challenged him this morning. Things were going well; but this was neither sustainable nor responsible on his part. What if the bomber decided to make another statement? What if she bombed the boardwalk? Or planted explosives in the Kalium Catacombs? Or destroyed Katarina Square!?

In the background of the call, Jet could hear a thumping noise. The agent was drumming their fingers with impatience. "Я надеюсь, ты понимаешь, как глупо ты выглядишь."

How was he stupid?! They hadn't found this bitch, either! All he could do was sit, wait, and notify them the moment a girl matching Natela's description waltzed into his gym—assuming she ever did!

But the agent didn't ease up. He (or she) just kept berating Jet for over a minute, throwing every colorful insult imaginable his way. With each new attack on his character, Jet clenched his jaw even tighter. By the time the subject changed, his molars hurt. He feared he may have cracked one of his perfect, pearly white teeth.

"У нас есть описание девушки, а также один подтвержденный покемон. Если какая-нибудь девушка, соответствующая этому описанию, появится в вашем спортзале, мы хотим, чтобы вы немедленно нейтрализовали угрозу. Ты понимаешь?"

His blood ran cold. Reporting this girl to the KSP wouldn't be enough anymore. If he saw her, they wanted him to "neutralize" her immediately. It took a moment to find the courage to speak again. When he did, Jet's voice came out shaky. "Да, товарищ."

"Мы даже откроем Метро в полночь, чтобы вы могли делать то, что делали девять лет назад. Толкать маленькую девочку не должно быть сложно для такого сильного мужчины."

"О чем ты говоришь?! Я не могу—"

"Wooooow. Narcissistic much?"

He recognized that voice! That was Cynthia: the cute Sinnohan girl he rescued from the train. He wondered if she realized just how insulting that remark was.

CEOs, Gym Leaders, high ranking officials, and other Kinzonians with higher salaries had a cap on how much they could keep within their personal accounts. Any excess earnings had to be redistributed to the community. Sure, they had some say on where that money went—repairing local roads, renovating a Trainers Lodge, and so on—but all his memorabilia was important to him.

Long before Jet became a Gym Leader; he, his Croagunk, and his Hariyama proudly represented Kinzo in various tournaments overseas. They were gold medalists for the PokéAthlon Hurdle Dash and Block Smash events. Independently, he had also made his country proud with his skills in gymnastics and acrobatics.

He could keep his posters and billboards because they didn't have any financial value: only sentimental. They were testaments to how much joy he'd brought back to his hometown. Hearing some little foreign bitch laugh at it soured his mood. Fuck her.

Even the KSP agent seemed to find that comment funny. They chuckled, cleared their throat, and had one last thing to say before hanging up: "Иди борись со своим противником. Обновите меня позже." The transmission cut off before Jet could respond.

For a short while, he snooped in the shadows to watch these children mock his achievements. Cynthia hadn't come alone. With her was the scrawny blue-haired boy he'd battled first thing in the morning: the one with the spunky Eevee. Cyrus had a camera in his hands and asked his friend if she wanted any pictures taken.

This was it: Jet's chance to make his grand entrance and be as sarcastically "friendly" to these children as they deserved. If Cynthia was going to be a condescending asshole, then the least he could do was make her squirm a bit. "Why, helloooooooo! Long time no see, pretty girl!"

Even before Cynthia turned around to look at him, Jet could tell his words had their intended effect. A big, visible shiver shot through her body before she forced herself to go completely rigid. Very stiffly, she turned around to face him: clearly not amused by the fact he'd called her pretty. "Hey."

Cyrus looked equally uncomfortable. His hands tightened their grip on the camera and he shot Jet a look like he'd just been caught doing something questionable.

"And hello again, Comrade Akagi!" Jet teased. He waved very dramatically and held out a hand for the boy to shake. At first, he didn't think Cyrus would take it, but he did. Still, the look the teenager shot him made it clear he was itching to pull out some hand sanitizer immediately afterward. "Let me guess: you're embarrassed that your Golbat listened to your Eevee instead of you. Is that why you came back with your cute girlfriend for a rematch?"

If these two were going to have a joke at his expense, then he was well within his rights to return the favor. He could tell he'd gotten under the girl's skin because her next words came out as an agitated hiss. "He's not your challenger, Jet. I am!"

It worked on the boy, too. Cyrus's pale face turned a bright crimson and he coughed. It took him a moment to speak, but he shot the words out like bullets as soon as he could. "And she's not my girlfriend."

' _I figured as much, little comrade. I don't think you could get a girl to touch you with a ten foot pole._ ' Most challengers were good sports and could handle a little teasing, but Cynthia made zero effort to hide her loathing. Anything Jet said would only piss her off further, so he just decided to go all out and say the sleaziest thing he could. "Oh? You're single?"

"I'M HALF YOUR AGE, SIR! You're…what? THIRTY!?"

This was too easy! Jet didn't even make an attempt to contain his laughter. If it took this little to fluster that girl, then she'd be an easy win. When people got that riled up, they started making rash decisions during their battles. And of course he wanted Cynthia to come back. She was hilarious!

So he took things a step further, eager to see her next explosion. "When do you turn sixteen? If I beat you, why don't we—"

"DON'T EVEN FINISH THAT THOUGHT BECAUSE YOU WON'T!"

Cynthia tried to call out her Eevee, but it didn't want to listen to her. It just sat there and growled when she tried to nudge it. Then she tried to pick it up. The Eevee protested by digging its nails into the carpet. The girl grumbled a few choice words under her breath and announced she'd face Jet without him.

"You…ha ha…you want to challenge me with just one Pokémon, pretty girl?" Even the tips of Cynthia's ears were turning red, either from embarrassment or sheer rage. Jet would honestly believe either. "If you win, I'll pay double! You _won't_ win, though. You'll leave here with a one-time-use night permit so I can take you out to dinner."

Even during his Elemental Specialist days, this had been a tradition for him. His mother told him that while the revolution had been a great leap forward toward gender equality, chivalry wasn't fully dead. Ladies (especially foreign ladies) still expected a gentleman to hold the door for them, pull out their chair, take their coat, and treat them to dinner. It made them feel precious.

As such, Jet invited trainers to dinner when they lost. Young men, he would take someplace cheap. They would talk about what went wrong in the fight, how they could improve, and make an appointment for a rematch. With women, it was different. Maybe it was wrong of him to give them preferential treatment, but women tended to have more to say. More time was needed to really listen; so they'd go someplace where they could sit down, talk, and linger.

They didn't just want to talk about Pokémon battles. They wanted to talk about their ambitions, dreams, and what they hoped to achieve during their journeys. It seldom turned into an actual date, but it had been known to happen. It was how Jet met his first fiancée: Emiliya. However, his second (and current) fiancée had bested him.

Kai hated the fact he still took female trainers out to fancy dinners, but whatever. She lived all the way in Hydrargyrum City. She couldn't have eyes and ears on him all the time here. That would be crazy!

Cynthia squeezed her Pokémon's ball so tightly that Jet thought her knuckles would break past the skin. Although she tried her best to keep a calm face, Jet could read her like an open book. All she wanted to do was maul him to pieces, and he couldn't exactly blame her. He was being a massive dick. "Cyrus, I want you to take Eevee and find a front row seat. I'm going to teach this jerk a lesson about respecting girls. Jet!"

He was already making his way up the stairs. When Cynthia called out his name, he flexed his muscles and struck a pose. "Да?"

"The bet's on! I'm only using one Pokémon, but it won't show mercy to any of yours!"

Oooooh. How threatening! Jet tried his best to hold in his desire to roll his dark eyes. "When Simon warned me to say somebody bested him on the first try, it wasn't _your_ name I heard."

After Cyrus Akagi defeated Simon, Simon proceeded to schedule a group call with Jet, Kai, and George. He wanted all of them to know that they could expect a blue-haired Sinnohan kid who would use unconventional tricks and methods to best them. Jet had innocently asked Simon what Cyrus did to him…and the answer was quite possibly the funniest thing he'd ever heard.

When Jet rescued Cyrus from the stranded train, he had no idea who he was. It wasn't until the kid scheduled a battle with him that he realized this was the trainer who duped Simon into thinking he had an extra Pokémon. Once Jet was aware, he braced himself for something wacky but memorable. He wasn't disappointed.

Cynthia, though? Simon didn't say a word about her. "You think you're something special, don't you?"

Cynthia didn't answer. She just stomped her way into the auditorium and kept shooting him angry, surly scowls.

"Come ooooon, pretty girl! We're wasting daylight!" Never one to make a simple entrance into a three-dimensional space, Jet grabbed one of his swings and put on a performance worthy of his old acrobat days.

Sometimes he liked to pretend this entire arena was filled with adoring fans: all cheering and applauding as he performed feat after impressive feat. When he first took over the Kalium Gym, these seats were packed. There was standing room only. People cheered, whistled, and dared him to do increasingly dangerous tricks. Now that Simon ran the Plumbum City Gym, most people got stuck there and never made it to Kalium City. These days, Jet was lucky if he could round up a crowd of more than ten to watch him perform.

The kids just clapped slowly, complete with underwhelmed expressions. Cynthia even took her sweet time getting into the arena.

' _Alright, pretty girl. Let's see what kind of heat you're packing._ ' Jet took a deep breath, threw his Croagunk's ball into the ring, and waited to see what Cynthia had other than her Eevee. He was practically bouncing with excitement, but it all came to a screeching halt when he saw what she called out:

A Spiritomb.

Jet's blood froze. Not only did Cynthia match the physical description of the Kalium Metro Bomber, but she also had the same exact Pokémon. Spiritombs weren't exactly easy to come by. They were insanely rare. Louie had one for his Aurum City Gym lineup, but that was the only other one Jet had ever seen.

No. No, this couldn't be right. It had to be some kind of mistake! Sure, Cynthia was a brat; but she couldn't be involved with something like Team Sigma…could she?!

"How…how do you have a…" No matter how hard he tried, Jet kept stumbling over his words. He stared at Cynthia, then at the Spiritomb, and back at the girl once more. She looked smug. That little smirk grew into a grin because she knew she had a type advantage. "H-how long have you been in Kinzo?"

The girl batted her eyes, poised her lips into a falsely sweet smile, and giggled. "Just shy of two weeks. Why?"

This didn't make any sense! Team Sigma sometimes tried to smuggle things through Customs. A few months ago, a Gamma got caught trying to sneak some kind of Kalosian contraband into the country. A Customs officer caught him at the Natrium Town Airport before he made it out of the terminal. But even then, Team Sigma was a Kinzo-exclusive organization! What reason would a Sinnohan girl have for aiding and abetting people like that?!

It couldn't be her. It just couldn't! "How do you have that? Spiritombs are—"

"Please use Confuse Ray, Spiritomb."

Jet's curiosity ended up costing him an important turn. He tried to get Croagunk's attention just to confirm he was alright, but the Pokémon only continued to hurt himself. With each blow, Croagunk became increasingly violent. To Jet's horror, he even managed to bite himself hard enough to draw blood. This wasn't okay!

To top it all off, Cynthia's Spiritomb just kept cackling as Croagunk continued to self-harm. Cynthia told it to use Psychic, and that was it. Just like that, Jet's old buddy—his _starter_ , no less!—was down and out for the count. "Call out your next Pokémon, Jet. We can do this all day."

Some people may have only viewed their Pokémon as tools, but Jet didn't. He'd had Croagunk and Hariyama for most of his life and could scarcely imagine what life would be like without them. They weren't just pets or friends. They were family, damn it! As he called Croagunk back, all he could do was swear under his breath and reach for his Meditite's ball.

When he finally worked up the nerve to talk again, he knew what he had to ask. He HAD to know! "How do you even HAVE that?! The quarantine—"

"Are you asking me if I smuggled a Pokémon through Customs?"

He couldn't believe it. That was _exactly_ what Team Sigma had gotten in trouble for in the past! The more this little bitch talked, the less Jet felt like he could take her at her word. Maybe Cyrus was blissfully ignorant to all this. Maybe Cynthia wasn't Sinnohan. Maybe she'd been an actress this whole time: a sleeper agent set out to destroy everyone and everything in her path.

Even if that wasn't true, the coincidences were way too many for Jet to ignore. At the very least, it was his civic duty to report her to the KSP. At most, what that agent wanted—

"I can assure you I didn't. Spiritomb's every bit as Kinzonian as you are."

' _And probably as Kinzonian as you, too,_ ' Jet thought darkly as he reached for Meditite's ball. She was his littlest Pokémon—just a baby that he'd bred from his rematch lineup's Medicham—and felt fiercely protective of her. He couldn't waste a single second with that unholy abomination still in the ring; so he hurriedly ordered Meditite to use Detect.

Cynthia didn't even seem remotely fazed. She whistled, made small talk with her Spiritomb, and acted like none of this was a big deal. "Ominous Wind," was the command she finally decided on. "And if you miss, do it again. It's the best move you have for this thing."

It was a blessing that Spiritomb's attack missed, but Meditite wouldn't be so lucky next time. The more she used Detect, the less effective she would be at evading future attacks. "Use Bide!" Jet didn't even know if Meditite could survive two hits, but it was the first thing that came to mind.

It wasn't enough. The next Ominous Wind knocked her out in one hit. And when Meditite fell, Cynthia clapped for her Spiritomb. Jet could also hear Cyrus doing the same. ' _The hell…? Are you in on this, too!?_ '

The only thing he had left was his Hariyama. As strong as he was, Jet knew this was a fool's errand. There was no way his last Pokémon would be able to beat this thing, but it also wouldn't be very "Kinzonian" of him to give up until the bitter end. As he called that final Pokémon out, he couldn't steady his shaking hand.

Cynthia wasted no time in telling her Spiritomb that she wanted it to use Psychic until Hariyama fainted. Under other circumstances, Jet would have appreciated her enthusiasm and tenacity. However, this was starting to feel like a matter of life and death. He didn't even know if that thing would show any mercy to Hariyama.

It didn't. As soon as Hariyama approached it, the Spiritomb blasted a Psychic attack so powerful that every human in the building could feel it. Jet was used to being hit by Pokémon attacks—even psychic ones—but this was the worst by far.

Every blood vessel in his head was on the verge of bursting and he could hear Spiritomb's hellish laughter deep inside his brain. His ears never heard it, but his throbbing brain did. Instead of just one voice, he heard a cacophonous chorus of a hundred girls: all laughing endlessly as they defeated him one by one with their ghosts and ghouls. They were all young, all beautiful, all steely-eyed and relishing in his failures.

Cyrus's battle made him laugh. Even though it was technically the boy's Eevee calling the shots, Jet felt fine giving him the Potassium Badge because he needed it. Losing to him wasn't a big deal, but this girl had more than mocked him. She was an actual threat not only to Jet personally, but to all of Kalium City.

He could see it clearly in his head: collapsing tunnels swallowing entire city streets, mass power outages, flooding as the dams controlling the harbor malfunctioned, the Zykova Stairs turning to rubble, and all his innocent citizens trembling in fear as this little monster unleashed pure pandemonium.

He couldn't take it anymore. His brain was going to explode. All he could do was cradle his head in his hands and twist his fingers deep into his thick dark locks.

Although he tried to speak for nearly a minute; all that came out were pained, agonized grunts. Blood dripped from his nose, the whole room felt like it was spinning, and he lost the contents of his stomach on the slick hardwood floor…partially.

Jet tried desperately to regain his composure. Once he finally did, all he could do was stagger toward Cynthia like a drunkard. He held out the Potassium Badge and shoved it in her face, expecting her to take it. "FINE! YOU WIN!" He didn't mean to shout, but he couldn't even hear himself. The laughter was still ringing so loudly in his head. "NOW PUT THAT THING BACK IN ITS BALL AND GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

All the cockiness on Cynthia's face had evaporated. All that he could see was a terrorized teenager. She took the badge and stared at Jet with big scared eyes. Her charade ended here. Jet leaned in because he wanted Cynthia to hear every single noise his angry, tired body made. She tried to move away, so he held her in place.

"What are you doing?" she squeaked. "Let go!"

Once or twice, she tried to free her arm. Jet just squeezed tighter when she did that. There wasn't much point in prolonging this, so he leaned in to give her his ultimatum. "18 hours. That's how long you have to get the hell out of my city."

If Cynthia had lost this match, Jet would have taken her out to dinner and turned her over to the KSP immediately afterward. But she won. Not only did she make him look like an incompetent jackass, but that Spiritomb had tortured his Croagunk. When this was over, Potions and bandages wouldn't be enough to patch him up for the next challenger. Jet would need to shut down the gym for the day and go directly to Nurse Yulia.

Those big gray eyes were staring at him in complete bewilderment. He could feel Cynthia trembling in his hands, but she was no longer trying to move away. Even if she wanted to, she couldn't. More than once, the girl squeaked but couldn't say anything coherent. Her nerves were too rattled.

"The KSP will give up their manhunt at midnight," Jet informed her. "I assured them that if I found anyone matching the description of the girl who bombed the train, I'd take her out myself. You're a dead ringer for what was reported on the news, pretty girl. No one's gonna miss you."

That statement must have scared her enough to try to get away again, but she failed. She attempted to free her arm, but Jet refused to let her go. This conversation wasn't over. Cynthia needed to know that her time was coming to an end. He couldn't kill her on the spot because Cyrus was here and Jet didn't want any witnesses. When she died, it needed to look like an accident…or a suicide.

Jet had experience with both.

"The Kalium City Metro stations will reopen at 6 AM. I expect you to take that train. If you dawdle…or linger…or take a later train…I'm afraid they'll have to report _another_ delay."

She'd go. Whether she moved forward to Hydrargyrum City to face Kai or back to Natrium Town to so she could book a flight out of Kinzo, it wouldn't matter. When she showed, the only destination Cynthia Shirona would face would be her final one.

And just as Jet had done nine years ago, his Hariyama would be waiting for her.


	53. Don't You Forget About Me

"You're shivering."

"I'm just cold, Cyrus. Everything's fine."

Things _weren't_ fine, and Cynthia was probably stupid for thinking she could fool Cyrus into thinking they were. He had to be the most astute, perceptive boy she'd ever met. Nothing got past him. Even if she swore up and down that nothing was wrong, she worried that he'd spot the lie and call her out on it.

 _You're not cold_ , he'd say. _You're scared._

Later, once they were safe inside the Trainers Lodge, Cynthia would tell him what Jet said. It made no sense, though! Why would he threaten her like that? Was his ego so incredibly fragile that he couldn't stand the thought of losing to a girl? If so, why on earth would he set himself up for failure and become a Gym Leader!?

"You're sure?"

' _Dammit. You noticed._ ' Cynthia forced a fake, strained smile and nodded her head. Cyrus didn't say anything else, but the concerned look in his eyes hadn't gone unnoticed. This act wasn't fooling him and he clearly didn't appreciate being lied to. Cynthia felt bad for putting on an act, but she couldn't have this conversation right now.

Her heart refused to slow down. It rattled inside her ribcage and pounded against her chest, demanding to be set free. The additional pressure made it hard to get air through anything other than short, frequent breaths. Yet as heavy as her arms and legs felt, Cynthia felt like her head had transformed into a hot air balloon and would float away if she wasn't careful. It remained attached to her sore neck, but the whole sensation was disorienting and unpleasant.

By the time they made it to the Zykova Stairs, Cynthia froze. Unless her body calmed down, those steps would be too much of a challenge. They didn't have any railings, the landings were spread too far apart, and some of the stairs looked wet. No part of this seemed like a safe idea. If she attempted them, she would slip, fall, and probably break her neck.

Her nerves had kicked into overdrive: shooting off too many synapses for her brain to fully process. Just as soon as she began a thought, another one hurried in to interrupt it. Scream. Faint. Cry. Throw up. Run. Fight. Do something. ANYTHING. Yet in the end, all those thoughts returned to the same thing:

 ** _"18 hours. That's how long you have to get the hell out of my city."_**

"What are you doing?"

She didn't answer Cyrus. Instead, she tucked all her hair inside the hood of her coat. She'd worn it down for their entire trip, but there was a first time for everything. Once she hid everything, she hunched down and tightened the drawstring until it hurt. She wanted to cover as much of her skin as possible, hopefully until nothing but her gray eyes peeked out.

There were other people out and about, but she didn't recognize them. Each time she heard a person talking in Kinzonian, she had to wonder if they worked for the KSP, or for Jet, or if they were innocent bystanders. Worst of all, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching them. No matter how hard she tried to make herself small and invisible, it felt like she had a big bullseye on the back of her coat.

Then, without warning, Cyrus grabbed her arm and tried to lock it with his. Before Cynthia could even react, the boy pulled her close to his side and began making the slow, cautious descent down the steps. For someone so thin, he generated a surprising amount of body heat.

"I, uh…ha ha…" Shit. Why did her fried brain decide now was a good time to laugh? There wasn't anything remotely funny about any of this! "I thought you didn't like people touching you."

"I don't," Cyrus grumbled, "but I'll tolerate it. More than I tolerate lying, anyway."

As they both made their slow descent, Cynthia paid close attention to her friend's hard face. She didn't detect any anger in Cyrus's words, but he could be an enigma at times. All those steely eyes seemed to be saying to her was _say something,_ or perhaps _explain yourself_. "I'm not—"

"Yes. You are."

By the second landing, Cyrus stopped walking and gestured for Cynthia to take a seat. She found a dry spot on a nearby step large enough for the both of them. When he kept his arm around her; she felt a bit better; but still nervous. She glanced at him, not entirely sure what this extra attention was for.

"You're acting weird. What did Jet say to you, Cynthia?" Cynthia could feel Cyrus's gaunt body tense up. She could also feel his deep, frustrated breathing as he tried to calm himself down. His hands were inside a pair of thermal mittens, but she felt every individual finger tightly grasp the soft spot just below her shoulder. "Do I need to go back there and—"

"No." Cynthia almost choked on the word. "I just want to go back to the Lodge. Please…"

…

They probably should have flagged down another taxi, but Cyrus insisted he could walk. All they had to do was take it slow and make frequent stops. Even after she could no longer see Katarina Square; Cynthia's heart had yet to return to a normal, stable rate. Every time she spotted an empty bench, she'd nudge Cyrus to sit with her for a few minutes.

Perhaps it was for the best they didn't hitch a ride. She didn't feel like talking to any more strangers. If they were even half as chatty as the taxi driver from earlier, then they'd notice something was up and ask what was wrong, despite it not being any of their business. She wished she could make herself invisible or blend in with her surroundings, but she couldn't. Feasibly, all she could do was keep close to Cyrus and hope nobody else bothered them.

The worst part was that constant, unwanted feeling that something was watching her. It didn't matter how many streets they crossed or shortcuts they took through the alleys. Even when they briefly stopped to buy sodas in a convenience store, she felt a pair of eyes drilling into the back of her coat. It thoroughly unnerved her.

She didn't even realize she'd been squeezing Cyrus's hand until he made a noise. She hastily apologized and swore she didn't mean to hurt him, but he didn't say anything. He just held open the door so she could enter the Lodge first.

Zed was half-asleep at the front desk. Although he tried his best to keep awake, he kept dozing off. When the Lodge Owner's eyelids weren't completely shut, he stared longingly at the glass double doors that served as the Lodge's entrance and exit. Only a handful of new guests had checked in since the lockdown. Even fewer checked out. He desperately wanted to see some new faces.

It was even more obvious that his guests were going stir crazy. Nearly three dozen of them were downstairs: pushing, shoving, and bickering over whose turn it was to use the Lodge's limited resources.

The Trainers Lodge only had two battle rooms, both of which had a red "OCCUPIED" sign flashing next to the door and a line of nearly five impatient trainers each. Most of them were school-aged trainers who kept checking their watch and the clock, but one particularly belligerent older trainer pounded on the door.

"YOUR TURN ENDED FIVE MINUTES AGO!" he snapped. "GET OUT SO I CAN BATTLE!" The next time he thumped his thick fist against the door, the person inside thumped back. A blurred figure appeared at the window portion only long enough to give the frustrated trainer a rude hand gesture. "GAAAAAAH! I'M GONNA TELL THE LODGE OWNER!"

"Do it!" the frustrated younger trainers in the line chimed in. "Do it! DO IT!"

But the battle rooms weren't the only part of the Lodge that was booked over max capacity. The laundry room had the exact same problem. As soon as a little girl with a pink bag darted out of the room like a frightened Skitty, an obese woman in an Alolan-print dress saw her chance and hurriedly pushed her giant pink clothes hamper toward the room. She pushed several other guests out of the way, snapping at them to back off and let her pass.

By the time she made it to the door, Eric blocked it. "Sorry, lady," he grunted, clearly not in the mood to humor her. "Machines are all loaded. You're gonna have to wait like everyone else."

The woman glared at him and tried to roll her hamper over his foot. He stopped her with a firm hand and gave her a look that made it obvious this would be her final warning. If she pulled this shit again, things would turn ugly.

"You heard me. Turn that thing around."

But she didn't. She shoved the back of her hamper; forcing it to move a bit further. One of the wheels rolled over Eric's foot, causing him to yelp in pain. The smirk on the woman's lips made it all too apparent she did that on purpose. Without another word, Eric kicked the cart over and an entire crowd of people watched as the hamper toppled over and spilled its contents. That was enough dirty laundry to clothe a family of four for a week.

"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR PROBLEM!?" the woman roared, pointing a finger in Eric's face. "I'M DOWN TO MY LAST PAIR OF CLEAN UNDERWEAR! I NEED TO WASH MY CLOTHES!"

While that tirade continued, Cynthia's attention shifted toward four boys who were squabbling over one of the last available board games. Zed kept several popular games in stock, but they were all checked out. So were most of the VHS tapes, magazines, and books. The boys snarled at each other like feral Pokémon. They tugged on the sides of the box until it ripped apart. All the tiny pieces clacked and rolled on the ground, going in all directions.

"Nice going, jerkwad!" one boy snapped before pushing another. "Now none of us can play!"

As the lobby continued to devolve into bedlam; Cynthia felt herself being increasingly drawn to the stairs. It was almost as though the back of her boots were magnetized. "It wasn't like this when I checked in," she murmured, thinking aloud rather than expecting Cyrus to hear her.

Right after the bombing, the trainers who were already at the Lodge did their best make the displaced newcomers feel welcome in Kalium City. Renata helped Cynthia sort things out at the Pokémon Center and even showed her how to report Avdantil for what he did to Guano Lisa. Some of Cynthia's other friends told her that the other guests treated them to lunch, despite not knowing the first thing about them. Isaac even found out about the beach when an older trainer gave him a list of fun things to do around the city.

That period of friendliness, it seemed, had come to an end. Now all that remained was cabin fever: boredom at its most bellicose.

"Jet said he'd pay you double if you won. Did he give you the money before we left?" Cyrus asked. Just hearing that name again made Cynthia's stomach twist into knots, but she nodded her head. "Okay. Give me your wallet so I can pay Zed for the private room."

Cynthia mumbled that she could handle that herself, but she still turned over the money. This kind of behavior wasn't normal for her; and Cyrus knew her well enough to recognize that. She couldn't tell if he was frustrated, annoyed, or simply concerned. Whatever he was feeling, he looked far from happy. "What do you want me to do?"

"Go upstairs," he answered firmly, "and try to do something that will help you relax. Take a bath. Watch something on TV. Read a book. After I get this squared away, we need to talk."

"Yeah…" She wasn't even going to refute that. "Yeah, we do."

…

Thinking that Cyrus wouldn't be long, Cynthia hurried upstairs so she could undress and claim the bathroom before he returned. The only thing she needed to do first was shut the blinds. While she doubted Jet knew which room was hers—not that Zed seemed the sort to volunteer such information—she also didn't want him to peek in and find her. A quick wave of relief hit her the moment the room turned dark.

Changing out of her clothes didn't take long. She neatly placed everything except her boots and coat into a mesh bag she'd been using to contain dirty laundry: both Cyrus's and hers. Downstairs felt like a war zone, so she could wait until they made it to Hydrargyrum City to run a load.

When she first noticed the private room had a bathroom, she'd been ecstatic. The prospect of being able to shower or bathe alone thrilled her, but that joy came to an abrupt end when nothing but tepid water came out of the faucet. A hot shower would have done wonders for her nerves, but this did nothing but leave her feeling cold and uncomfortable.

She came out of the bathroom in her pajamas, slippers, and bathrobe. Her long blonde hair, typically neatly combed and never messy, looked like a nest of wet raggedy strings. Her makeup was mostly washed off, save for some stubborn mascara that refused to come off. Faint gray streaks remained beneath her eyes, leaving her appearing more tired than before.

Even bundled up inside her bathrobe, she still felt cold. The room had a gas log fireplace; so she turned that on, sat by the fire, and waited for Cyrus to come back. In front of the fire; her hands and face felt tight and mask-like. She cautiously flexed her fingers, curious to see how her tightened flesh reacted. It felt like somebody shrink-wrapped a transparent glove over her skin.

The Kinzonian history books she checked out remained on the desk, as well as the language primers she'd picked up for Cyrus. They needed to be returned, but there was no way she could go the Kalium Library with a death threat looming over her head. She hurriedly wrote a note for Zed, explaining that someone had threatened her and she didn't feel comfortable returning the books in person. If he could do it for her, she'd greatly appreciate it.

Cynthia was frustrated because she wanted to read those books from cover to cover, just so she could learn more about this fascinating country. The only problem was her bewildered brain wouldn't let her concentrate on anything for longer than five seconds. Even if she shut her eyes and tried to nap, all her mind wanted to do was repeat Jet's threat over and over again.

The primal half of her brain begged her to run away from the danger. The logical half kept having to reiterate that she couldn't do anything until morning. The black vans were already patrolling the streets and curfew was in effect. The KSP weren't any safer hands to land in than Jet Melkadze's.

' _What's taking you so long, Cyrus? Where are you?_ '

Each time Cynthia heard footsteps or saw shadows of people's feet walk past her door, she shivered and anxiously wondered who those feet belonged to. Cyrus was short and kind of scrawny for a teenage boy. When he walked, his feet made little to no impact with the floor: just a soft patter at most. The only time his footsteps were heavy enough to be heard or felt was when he intentionally stomped. Most of the time, he was like a Glameow: aloof, nimble, and close to silent. Cynthia could never sense him coming.

She could, however, tell that the footsteps ascending the stairs were too thick and heavy to be his. Whoever that man was—because there was no way a woman could be that big—he had to be gigantic. Afraid that it might be Jet, Cynthia huddled deeper into her bathrobe and tightly squeezed Spiritomb's Poké Ball in her right hand. If that door opened, she'd try to fight him off and scream at the top of her lungs.

Fortunately, it never came to that. Instead of stopping at Cynthia's door, the heavy walker continued down the hall and entered a nearby room. A few seconds later, she heard bits and pieces of a televised news bulletin coming from that room. The audio was too distorted for her to understand what was being said, but—

"Cynthia?" Right after Cyrus called out her name, he cautiously rapped his knuckles against the door. She could also hear his Eevee's claws clack against the hardwood floor, eager to be let inside. "Is it okay to come in?"

"Yeah." The word still felt like cement in her mouth. "Um…can you, uh…be quieter? And try not to advertise the fact that I'm in here?"

The blue-haired boy cautiously shut and locked the door, even going so far as to nudge his Eevee when it couldn't decide whether it wanted to be inside or outside. "Sure. No problem." His tone was calm, but he was visibly worried. None of this was normal behavior for her and they both knew it.

Cyrus only had one free arm. The other was loaded down with a glossy cardboard carton, two plastic spoons, and a pair of small bowls. "This is dinner. I think Zed called it _solyanka_. Any idea what that is?" When Cynthia shook her head, the boy sat down on the floor beside her and began pouring the carton's contents into the two bowls. His Eevee sniffed at the contents, decided he didn't like the smell, and scampered off to play with a toy on the floor. "I guess we'll find out, then."

The solyanka appeared to be some kind of red soup with lemon, cabbage, mushrooms, tomatoes, a slew of vegetables and some kind of meat. Cynthia took a bite and still couldn't identify what type of meat it was other than some kind of sausage. The flavor was both hot and sour with a peppercorn-laced savory after note.

"It's good. I just wish I had more of an appetite…"

Cyrus pulled out two squeeze packets of sour cream and squirted one on top of his soup. Today, he was voracious. If Cynthia wasn't going to eat that other bowl, he'd finish it off. "I have some good news."

"Oh?" She could use some good news right about now. "Was that why you took a while to come back up?"

"No. Some of the other guests trashed the lobby. I figured that since Zed went out of his way to accommodate us, the least I could do was help him clean up. Isaac helped, too."

No part of that statement surprised Cynthia. Isaac traveled with a sarcastic know-it-all and a foul-mouthed prankster, but he was a peacemaker at heart. If he saw an opportunity to help someone in need, he'd drop whatever he was doing and make himself useful. She really liked that about him.

"Then Zed asked if I minded helping him distribute dinner rations. That's what took the longest. The TV was on, though; and that brings me to the good news. The KSP have a lead on the Kalium Metro Bomber."

Cynthia's gray eyes grew big when he said that, but those words did nothing to restore any color to her pale face. "They do?"

"Yeah. I think I know who tipped them off, too. Before Renata left, she said she'd talk to the police about our run-in with Team Sigma. In any case, it's resolved. We can ride the Metro to Hydrargyrum City first thing tomorrow morning and—hey. What's wrong? You're shaking…"

Cynthia's fingers curled tightly into the soft plush fabric of her robe, afraid to let go. "Cyrus?" Once again, her heart felt like it wanted to escape her body and take the next train out of Kalium City, with or without her. "Has anyone ever threatened to kill you before?"

The question caught him off guard. He'd been in the middle of taking another bite of his dinner, but his blue eyes honed in on Cynthia. At first, he wondered if this was some kind of weird joke; but she was deathly serious. He swallowed the soup, cleared his throat, and took a moment to answer her inquiry. "Not in any seriousness, no."

Cynthia's worried expression only intensified. Her brow was knitted together, showcasing her fears for all the room to see. Cyrus could tell his answer had confused her rather than given her any relief. This needed to be clarified, he figured.

"My father makes those kinds of remarks when he's upset or disappointed. It's nothing serious: just stuff like how he wishes he never had me or could at least trade me for a normal son."

Maybe Cyrus thought those words were nothing serious, but Cynthia was appalled. She didn't care how frustrated a parent was with their child. There were just some things you never said to kids! She scooted closer, wanting to wrap her arms around him and pull him into a hug; but then she remembered how much he hated being touched and thought better of it.

With parents like that, it was no wonder why. They'd probably never hugged him.

The most upsetting part in all this wasn't so much Cyrus's words as his casual, far-from-bothered affect. He sounded calm, even serene: as though he were describing the weather or something just as mundane. The first time Alexander spouted that vitriol at his son, it must have hurt Cyrus deeply. Now, he seemed to be at peace with it: like this happened so frequently that those hateful words meant nothing. That was NOT okay.

"I suppose the joke's on him. My mother can't have any more children and he's too loyal to cheat on her." As much of a monster as Cyrus believed Alexander to be; that monster could still love. He simply didn't love him. "But that's beside the point. I'm guessing you asked me that because Jet threatened you. What exactly did he say to you?"

' ** _You're a dead ringer for what was reported on the news, pretty girl. No one's gonna miss you._** '

It took Cynthia a moment to catch her breath and speak again, mostly because she was internally reeling. "He thinks I'm the bomber, Cyrus. And he told the KSP that if he found the bomber, he'd kill her himself."

"And you told him the truth?" Cyrus sounded so hopeful.

In retrospect, maybe she _should_ have told him she knew who did it: a girl in Team Sigma named Natela. But when Jet was manhandling her and whispering all those awful things in her ear, all she could focus on was how badly she wanted to run away from him and hide.

"What good would that have even done?! He wouldn't believe me! He…" She hiccupped and felt some of the soup starting to come back up. "He wants me out of Kalium City by sunrise. If we don't take the first train to Hydrargyrum City, he'll…"

' ** _I'm afraid they'll have to report another delay._** '

Her entire face scrunched up and turned red. She hid it between her knees and hugged herself tightly. "I don't know what he meant by what he said next, but—"

A strong hand knocked on the door. Cynthia squeaked and bumped into Cyrus, temporarily forgetting about personal boundaries and just wanting some sort of protection. He made a noise but didn't push her off. She placed her thumb on the Poké Ball's button, ready to call out Spiritomb the moment this intruder forced their way inside.

Cyrus seemed to be on the same page as her, even going so far as to reach for Golbat's ball. His Eevee growled, every hair between its front shoulders fluffing up. The little Pokémon barked from the bed, bushy tail twitching erratically.

"Hey, kids?" Oh thank Arceus. It was just Campanella. Cynthia was so relieved that she briefly forgot about how angry she was with her! "Is everything okay? I didn't see y'all at dinner an' I got worried."

"Should I let her in?" Cyrus whispered to Cynthia. "I know you're mad about what happened at the wax museum, but—" Okay. Good. She was nodding her head. "I'll be right back."

This whole situation was putting him on edge, too; but he recognized that he needed to be the strong one here. Cynthia was at her wit's end and neither one of them would benefit if they both fell apart.

Just a few days ago, Cyrus had wondered what would have happened if their roles switched. What if Cynthia was in critical condition and only he could help her? Would he be as resourceful as she had been, or as willing to reach out for help from others? He remembered thinking that while he hoped he'd be just as mentally equipped to handle an emergency as Cynthia had been; he never wanted that to be put to the test.

And here they were: doing exactly that. She wasn't unconscious, poisoned, or on the verge of bleeding to death; but a man in a position of authority (and probably over twice her size) had just threatened to kill her. He didn't blame her for being scared.

He opened the door and saw that Campanella had a little tray in her hands, complete with two cups of some kind of gelatinized red juice in them. She hadn't come alone, though. Right behind her was Zed. "Hey, Mr. Levin," he mumbled at him.

"Zed's there, too?" Cynthia asked, briefly lifting her head. Zed waved at her; so she gave him a weak, timid little smile. "Hey…"

"Helloooo!" Zed replied in his typical jovial tone. He made his way past Campanella, which was far from an easy feat. Not only was she large and muscular, but Zed was quite rotund. When he finally maneuvered his portly body around her, he bumped the tray and nearly knocked it over in the process. "You looked a bit distraught when I saw you in the lobby, Miss Cynthia. Are you feeling ill?"

"She certainly looks it," Campanella gruffed, cigarette still pinched tightly in her lips. "The hell's wrong, Blondie? You look like—"

"The Gym Leader threatened to kill her." So far as Cyrus was concerned, there was no point in dancing around the issue. "Tell them what you told me, Cynthia."

It didn't matter how many times she repeated the story. Rehashing it didn't make it any easier to say. "Jet thinks I bombed the train. He told me I had until 6 AM tomorrow to leave the city. If I'm still here after that, he assured me that the Metro will experience another delay."

Zed visibly winced. He had lived in this city long enough to remember the first time that happened: back when Emiliya Khismatullina's name still meant something. "He…literally called it a delay…?"

"YES, ZED!" Cynthia didn't mean to shout, but it came out anyway. "Jet's given me the creeps ever since I met him! When he gave Cyrus and me a lift to the hospital…"

She still had nightmares about that. In those dreams, Jet just kept driving circles around the highway and always missed his turn. Each time Cynthia reminded him that the exit for the hospital was coming up; Jet said he'd rather talk about her. All she could do was watch as Cyrus bled out; turning paler and deader in the backseat by the second.

"He intentionally kept missing the turn. I think we looped around that exit at least three—maybe even four—times. I called him out on it and he snapped at me. In the Kalium Gym, I beat him with just one Pokémon. He didn't take it well. Now he thinks I had something to do with what happened and he wants to kill me for it!"

"This is bad," she heard Zed whisper in Campanella's ear. "I don't think they should stay in the private room anymore."

"You're shitting me, right?" Campanella snapped back. "You want to put your _other_ tenants at risk?! If you stick those kids in the public dorms, then what? When that motherfucker shows up to do whatever he's planning, then—"

"My dear Campanella, please calm down!" Zed held up both hands to show he meant no ill will with this remark, but would greatly appreciate being permitted to finish what he intended to say. "That's not what I'm proposing at all! Children? I have an apartment in the building's attic space. Since Campanella and I are old college comrades, she's been staying with me this whole time. I don't have an extra bed, but I would feel much better if the two of you stayed with us."

"Good. So would I." Cyrus was already grabbing his things and whistled to get his Eevee's attention. "Grab what you can, Cynthia. Let's move upstairs."

…

Due to his back problems, Zed slept on a special mattress and wouldn't be sharing it. Not too far away, Campanella's Raichu guarded a rather comfortable-looking hammock, preventing anyone else from calling dibs. This meant that for the night, the teenagers would be sleeping on the floor. Zed pulled apart the two soft sides of his futon couch to create temporary mattresses, but it would be a little hard.

That was alright. Cynthia didn't much feel like going to sleep after this, anyway. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight," she warned Cyrus. "Please don't feel like you have to stay up with me. If you'd rather sleep, I'll understand."

"I'm kind of a Noctowl, anyway." If left to his own devices, Cyrus would have become completely nocturnal years ago. There were fewer frustrations at night: fewer people, fewer altercations, and fewer obstacles. The world was simply quieter and more peaceful after dark. "Don't worry about me. What will make you feel better?"

Cynthia couldn't help but feel a bit sheepish. She rolled over so she could face him. They were both bundled up in Zed's blankets, looking more like a couple of awkward Wurmples than a pair of uncertain teenagers. "Just seeing you," she admitted, curling up closer. "Knowing you're there, you care, and you want to help is more than enough. You're a good friend."

' _Friend?_ '

Less than three days ago, Cynthia lost her temper and told Cyrus she knew why he didn't have any friends at home. His paranoid accusations pushed people away. She'd since apologized and tried to make it up to him even to the point of overcorrecting her behavior. Cyrus had already forgiven her, but such words had a nasty way of lingering even after tensions died down.

"We work together," he answered cautiously. "Of course I'm going to care."

Cynthia weakly lifted her head from her side of the futon. "I'm sorry I said those hurtful things the other day. There's no excuse for how I behaved. You really are one of the most wonderful and caring people I've ever traveled with. Whether we leave Kinzo with only two badges or we collect all eight, I don't want our story to end here. I want to keep in touch after we go back to Sinnoh."

When this was all over, she wanted to visit Sunyshore City and see Cyrus's magnet school. Maybe during his summer vacation, they could take a road trip together until he gathered the seven badges he didn't have. If he completed the Kinzo League, what was left of the Sinnoh League wouldn't be much of a problem.

And if Cynthia sufficiently softened up Cyrus's parents, maybe they'd be fine with letting him do another year abroad someplace else. Meeting Professor Sycamore was more than enough to point her wanderlust-addled compass toward Kalos, but that expedition would mean so much more with a genuine friend rather than having to start from scratch a fourth time.

She had gone on journeys like this with other trainers before. And as soon as they accomplished what they set out to do, they left her behind and faded away.

When she first started in Sinnoh, Cynthia began her journey with her old friend June. After their argument at a Pokémon adoption center, they parted ways and didn't see each other again until the annual tournament. In that rematch, Cynthia barely recognized the spunky tomboy she'd once adored. Sometime during June's expedition, she had transformed into a beast of a trainer: a cold, calculating, efficient machine who could demolish anyone or anything foolish enough to get in her way.

For the first half of Cynthia's Unova journey, she traveled with a sweet Kinzonian boy she met while waiting in line at a Pokémon Center. Nikoloz exclusively used Electric Pokémon and wanted to be a Gym Leader someday. But as fun and nice as Nikoloz was, he burned through money faster than anyone else Cynthia had ever met. By the time they made it to Nimbasa City, he ended up blowing all his money on the amusement park rides and couldn't afford to eat anything for two days. At least he was a good sport and could laugh at his mistakes.

She would have traveled with Nikoloz indefinitely, but a family emergency cut his journey short and he flew back to Kinzo. From Mistralton City onward, Cynthia traveled alone and tried to make new friends. That part was easy. Keeping them was the hard part.

She had no clue what June or Nikoloz were up to anymore. When they traveled together, they were her world. Then, when it was all over; they shook hands, wished each other good luck, and parted ways. For a while, Cynthia swapped birthday cards and occasionally called them. When she called Nikoloz to tell him she was challenging his home region, he insisted that they meet up in his hometown: Stannum City. They hadn't talked since then.

Those calls used to be every week, and then they became every month. By the end, they were so sporadic that she doubted she'd ever hear from Nikoloz again. Maybe his future (and June's) were too bright to dwell on the past. That didn't make the silence hurt any less. Cynthia had poured her heart and soul into those friendships. Now she felt like little more than somebody else's fond memory: just a nice little afterthought to pull out on rainy days.

She longed for a future where she and Cyrus kept in touch. Maybe they'd chat on the phone. At the very least, they could exchange e-mails. She was already thinking about what college would be like, how much she would love to attend the same school as him, and spend long hours in the library: just studying history and mythology together.

It had taken Cynthia a grand total of three journeys to find a friend who could keep up with her physically, mentally, and as a Pokémon trainer. They even shared some common interests. If she let this friendship fizzle out the way it had with June and Nikoloz, she'd never forgive herself.

"There are people you meet, and there are people you keep. You're somebody I want to keep, Cyrus. I don't want to lose you."

Cynthia didn't realize the impact of her words. Even if only half the things she said were true, it would still be the most beautiful lip service Cyrus had ever received. Externally, he kept his composure; but he was internally reeling. What had he done to trigger that much of a response from her? All he'd done today was express his concern and try to take care of her. Any decent person with half a conscience would have done the same.

When their time in Kinzo came to an end, Cyrus suspected Cynthia would make a token effort to keep in touch. Then, once she realized what an insufferable person he truly was, she'd ghost him. She could excuse his flaws and eccentricities in Kinzo because they worked together and he was as close to a friend as she had available. Would that still hold true when other, possibly better, people started entering her life?

His heart wanted to believe her, but his brain refused to do the same.

"You asked me what would make me feel better. Can I…" she stifled a yawn. "I know you don't like it, but—"

Cyrus sighed and wrapped his arms around Cynthia. "Go ahead." This was fine. She asked. That was the most important part.

Her body curled up so close to his own that he could feel her damp hair on his chin and smell the solyanka on her breath. In that cold room, Cynthia was the only warm thing. He could feel her rapid heartbeat even from the other side of the puffy blankets, as well as the subtle ups and downs of her breathing.

Just being held seemed to have a calming effect on her addled nerves. Her pulse started to slow down, as did her breathing. She babbled a bit more, talking about what she wanted to do next; but her sleepy words didn't make much sense. She was fading fast: too exhausted and worn down for her brain to do much more than short circuit and spout out nonsense.

' _I hope you stay, too,_ ' he thought as he felt her start to doze off in his arms. ' _I know it's inevitable, but I'm going to be so lonely when you go._ '


	54. A Crowbar for Croagunk

**Author's Note 1: There is a content warning for this chapter regarding profane language, death threats, murder, mild gore, and Campanella getting into a fist fight with a Pokémon. Discretion is advised for more sensitive readers.**

 **…**

 **Author's Note 2: Some of my beta readers and friends have recommended I start splitting up this story into more sizeable "chunks." In short, rather than just one massive tome that goes on and on; I will be posting and completing arcs as "parts."**

 **Once the Kalium City arc ends at the end of this year, this file will be marked as complete and the title will be updated to reflect that this story encompasses Parts 1 & 2 of ****_Pokémon Hammer & Sickle_** **. Part 3, 4, etc. will each then be published as sequels to what's already been posted.**

 **My hope is that this will (1) make the story feel a bit less daunting and (2) make it at least a little bit easier for readers to remember where they are.**

 **…**

 **Author's Note 3: I had a falling out with a pair of former friends who have requested that all homages to their characters be redacted from the story. We have all decided there is no way this friendship can be salvaged and it is best if I sever all ties with them.**

 **Characters that shared little more than a name and a handful of traits with their original inspiration have been altered; while others have been replaced with characters that are 100% my own through a series of revisions. Listed below are the main changes you'll find going forward. All these changes have already been updated and uploaded to the story.**

 **1 - You will find full retcons in references to an "Imperial War" in some past chapters. Beta readers further ahead than the published version will receive a private and more detailed explanation on what the new version will look like, as this wasn't much more than a footnote until the fourth arc and hasn't become relevant to the overall plot yet.**

 **2 - The "Comrade Greene" cameo in Chapter 45 has been changed to provide the reader with a bit more information about Kinzo's last reigning tsar. This felt like a good place to build more of the political setup rather than simply throwing in a cameo of a character who played very little (now zero) role in this story.**

 **3 - Some minor and not-yet relevant characters have had name changes and some modifications to their backstories. Trixie (now Ana) was pretty much a generic friendly kid with a Cleffa, so that's just a name change. However, my active beta readers will be receiving notes on what changes have been made to other minor characters that have either made no or very few name-drop appearances in the published story thus far (such as the Ferrum Town Lodge Owner, the Kinzonian friend Cynthia went on a past adventure with, and one of the judges in the Stannum City tournament arc...just to name a few).**

 **4 - Some cameos I was intending to make in the Hydrargyrum City arc, both original and canon, have been removed and/or replaced upon the request of these former friends. This also rings true for some characters that have been cut or unrecognizably altered in the Ferrum Town and Stannum City arcs (which most of you won't even start seeing until 2021-2023, so this honestly won't impact you at all).**

 **5 - There's a small change to Professor Myrtle's surname (** ** _van Goud_** **to** ** _Tuscarora_** **), but it doesn't really change much of anything regarding her.**

 **6 - The largest changes you will notice are with the Team Sigma members you've met so far: the characters formerly known as Cooper and Bobbi. Some rather heavy appearance, personality, backstory, and even party changes for these two-especially in the case of Bobbi (now Natela). I've been tempted to do this for a while, anyway. The new versions should fit better with the Soviet-inspired atmosphere of the story rather than clash with it.**

 **Natela's appearance and personality have drastically changed and only one of her party members is consistent with the old version (though a name change has occurred). The largest revision is in Chapter 43, which contains an all new origin story for this new character.**

 **Avdantil (formerly Cooper) will be losing a lot of his goofiness and should read as more competent than his original version. This new character is a vicious "mad dog" type enemy with an even more intensified love for violence. There are no changes to his party or appearance (as these varied heavily from the original version anyway), but I'm sure the readers in this for the darker chapters will enjoy the modifications.**

 **I apologize in advance for any confusion this may cause (it won't be happening again), but thank you again for your continued support. You are a wonderful group of readers and I wouldn't trade you for anyone.**

 **…**

"Mind if I smoke?" Instead of answering Campanella with words, Zed let loose a nervous and mildly frustrated groan. "Sorry, pal. I really need one."

Campanella knew Zed hated the smell of cigarette smoke; but it wasn't like she could go outside without attracting the attention of the KSP. Curfew was in effect and the only cars she could see on the roads were black vans and cargo trucks. At least she was responsible enough to do it in Zed's apartment rather than the Lodge lobby. There were little kids in this building. The last thing she wanted was to pollute those pink, perfect, innocent lungs; just because she couldn't kick her bad habit.

Although Campanella tried to smoke the cigarette discreetly, she heard a muffled cough come from the futon where Cyrus and Cynthia tossed and turned in a fitful sleep. They forced themselves to stay awake for a while; but then all the excitement from the previous day caught up to them and their bodies gave up. Cynthia conked out around midnight and Cyrus followed suit less than an hour later.

Not wanting to wake the kids up, Campanella tried to make quick work of the cigarette. She pressed the butt onto one of Zed's drink coasters until nothing was lit anymore and dumped the ashes out the window.

The attic apartment didn't exactly have a nice view. All she could see was the Trainers Lodge parking lot. Whoever owned the little red roadster left yesterday morning; so the only remaining cars were clunky, butt-ugly things in varying shades of rust, black, and gray. Maybe they were other colors, but it was hard to make out reds, greens, blues, and so on with next to no light.

Only one thing stood out as not quite right. A dark blob the size of a human toddler sat on the hood of a car and peeled the skin off a Nanab Berry before eating it whole. It made all kinds of nasty noises as it stuffed the food down its maw. It seemed to be having a good time with its meal; but its main points of focus were the first floor windows, which looked directly into the public barracks.

"The fuck…?" Campanella wanted to study it a bit further; but she could hear Zed's teeth chattering from the bone-numbing cold. "I'm sorry, Zed. I'm kinda bein' a shitty guest, ain't I?"

Zed huddled up deeper into his blankets and shook his head. "I wish you'd wait until morning to burn your cancer sticks; but I'll give you a pass because of the circumstances. I'll just clean up after you and your friends leave tomorrow. It's not that big of a deal."

Campanella continued to pace back and forth. She feared that if she sat still in any one position for long enough, she'd pass out. Somebody needed to stay alert and be awake, just in case the alarm clock wasn't enough. There wasn't even any sense in changing into her bedclothes or taking off her boots.

She finally flopped onto the hammock and rolled over to drape a thick arm around her Raichu. The big electric mouse nuzzled her yellow cheek up to her trainer until there was enough static to make Campanella's braid stand up. It felt nice just to have something to hold in her arms. Raichu had loved snuggling ever since she was a Pichu. It didn't matter how big or old she got. She'd always be Campanella's baby. "Hey, Zed?"

"Yes?"

She found Raichu's favorite spot (behind her left ear) and scratched it until she felt sparks crackle against her fingers. "How well do ya know Jet?"

"Not as well as I knew his predecessor, I'm afraid. I do, however, think Mr. Montmorency set a nasty precedent for him."

"Ya might as well give me the details," Campanella grunted, more out of discomfort than anything else. Raichu kept squirming around, trying to make herself comfortable. She simply couldn't make up her mind as to whether she wanted to touch bellies with her trainer or turn her back to her. "It ain't like we can go anywhere 'til dawn."

Beneath his covers, Zed wrung his hands. He was breaking into a cold sweat: clearly unnerved by the prospect of talking about the person Jet replaced. "Immature and narcissistic as Mr. Melkadze can be; this is the first time he ever struck me as dangerous. He's a big flirt and sometimes uses his position to pressure ladies into going out to eat with him—mostly so he can show off how many restaurants let him do so for free. It's one of the many perks of being a Gym Leader, I'm told."

"Yeeeeeeeah," Campanella growled, her nails scratching Raichu a bit more intensely than before. The yellow sparks were turning blue. "That cocky son of a Houndoom tried that with me, too. I ain't got no patience for that sorta shit."

Zed chuckled, still nervous. "I know you don't. I'm just glad you didn't punch him!" A loud, annoyed grunt came from the hammock. It was way too soon for that joke to be funny. "Anyway, I'll get back to Jet in a moment. In order to understand why he felt comfortable threatening Miss Cynthia, you need to understand the man he replaced.

"Siny Montmorency was a Ghost specialist who had a twisted fascination with the Kalium Catacombs. He even commissioned an architect to convert the tunnels beneath Katarina Square into a private residence. He grew up in Ferrum Town and said the catacombs reminded him of Ironheart Mine. It made him feel a little less homesick.

"During his tenure as the Kalium Gym Leader, Mr. Montmorency only accepted morning challenges. Afternoons were devoted to exploring the tunnels: sometimes with a group, but oftentimes not. He claimed he wanted to look for Ghost Pokémon and rare items; but we found out later that he was grave robbing and photographing corpses for some kind of…ahem…'art project.'

"After a while, the police noticed an upward trend in missing persons cases. Most of the reported disappearances were foreign tourists, so they didn't pay it much heed. After a Kinzonian boy vanished, they posted warning signs near every known entrance to the tunnels. People were discouraged from exploring without an experienced guide or a guaranteed means of escape.

"But it kept happening. Even though the warnings were posted in obvious places and in a language everyone understood, trainers continued to vanish. All signs pointed to a much more terrifying fact than simple reckless behavior. Maybe there was a serial killer in Kalium City.

"Eventually, the police caught on that the only connection these missing trainers had was the Gym Leader. They had all recently earned a Potassium Badge and expressed an interest in exploring the tunnels. Since Mr. Montmorency knew the tunnels well enough to live in them, they assumed any tour he hosted would be safe. Instead, he used his ghosts to stalk, hunt, and murder them in various gruesome ways."

By now, Zed wasn't the only one covered in sweat. Campanella's heart thumped so heavily that she felt like she was on the verge of fainting. It also wasn't lost on her that Raichu had stopped squirming. The Pokémon's brown ears were perked up and spread wide: like a pair of satellite dishes. Raichu, like her trainer, was hanging onto every word: distressed but desperate to learn how this grisly story concluded.

"What the hell is wrong with your Gym Leaders?" When Campanella swore, Raichu growled a bit. She didn't apologize for it, but instead pet the Pokémon until Raichu's tense body started to go lax again. "At least tell me the cops caught the bastard."

Zed shot her a nervous glance. "Well…yes and no. Mr. Montmorency's last attempted victim was a teenage girl who wanted to search the tunnels for a missing friend. Once they were both underground, he attacked her. The girl outran him, found an exit, and reported the incident to the local police. Mr. Montmorency was arrested, but that's not where his story ends.

"His half-brother Alexei was a high ranking government official: so high, in fact, that he reported directly to Premier Vasiliev. In a sane and stable world, Siny Montmorency would have been executed by firing squad, strapped into an electric chair, or at least condemned to spend the remainder of his days in a gulag. Instead, he was put on probation."

"What the _fuck_ , Zed?!" Campanella could scarcely believe what she was hearing. Her blood boiled, especially because she could tell where Zed was going with this.

Jet's predecessor killed people and only received a slap on the wrist for his troubles. Compared to the sheer volume of corpses Siny left in his wake; Jet probably felt like he could do whatever he wanted with no culpability. Kinzonian Gym Leaders were untouchable. What a terrible precedent to set!

"How'd Montmorency lose the gym, then?"

"Legal pushback, actually." No part of this was funny, but a nervous giggle left Zed's lips anyway. He could either laugh or cry over this, and he'd rather not cry. "The IPL sometimes sends undercover auditors to anonymously evaluate the gyms. It's how they make sure the different regions adhere to international standards and don't give away privileged positions to undeserving candidates.

"Nine years ago, an auditor came to Kalium City and recommended that the gym be shut down. The Kinzo League pushed back, demanding to know why the gym failed. The auditor stated that while the facility, gym hours, lineup, and battle had all been up to code; the IPL didn't want to be held accountable for a region that turned a blind eye to serious criminal allegations.

"The Kinzo League had a choice to make: lose the Gym Leader, lose the Kalium Gym, or lose their IPL certification altogether. They unanimously voted to drop Mr. Montmorency and held a tournament to find a replacement. That's how we got Mr. Melkadze."

The whole thing made Campanella so fucking angry. The only silver lining in all this was that (she hoped) the kids were sound asleep. If Cynthia or Cyrus heard this kind of dark shit about the Kinzo League's corruption, they would probably pack their bags and head back to Sinnoh. Campanella wouldn't blame them if they did, but Myrtle would be back at square one and nowhere closer to finding what she expected to find up north.

"Please tell me that fucker's dead now." Campanella hugged Raichu tight against her body. The Pokémon didn't even try to crawl out of her arms this time. She was being very, very good. But all Zed could do was shake his head. "No? Where is he, then?"

"Last I heard, Mr. Montmorency has been quietly spending his 'retirement' in Ferrum Town. I don't really care what he does these days, Campanella. I'm just glad he doesn't live here anymore. He set a bad example, though. Every Gym Leader who came after him—Mr. Morozov, for instance—has been an entitled narcissist. And with Mr. Melkadze…" He was still fidgeting, trying to get himself comfortable. "I'm starting to fear that Miss Cynthia might not be his first intended victim."

Campanella shot Zed a worried, angry look. "If that was meant to be a joke, I ain't fuckin' laughing."

"He phrased his threat as a _Metro delay_ , didn't he? When I told you that Mr. Melkadze was selected as our new Gym Leader, that isn't entirely true. There was an equally qualified individual: an Ice specialist named Emiliya Khismatullina."

Just hearing that name made Campanella's entire body break into pins and needles. At the wax museum, Cynthia had asked Kai if there was a statue of that girl. Campanella didn't recognize the name, but bringing her up seemed to rub Kai the wrong way. Kai had even snapped a bit, stating that it was "no contest" that she was the most qualified between the three.

The whole exchange had struck Campanella as odd at the time. It was weird enough that a foreign kid like Cynthia would know some random Kinzonian ES trainer's name, but it was doubly weird that Kai would be so hostile about discussing her.

"You're tellin' me Jet killed this Khismatullwhatever chick? Is that it?"

"Let me put it this way…" Crap. When Zed started a statement with that phrase, it meant he was more than convinced. "Both Miss Khismatullina and Mr. Melkadze wanted to be Gym Leaders. In fact, they both specifically wanted to run the Kalium Gym. Then, on the morning that Mr. Montmorency's replacement was to be announced; Miss Khismatullina was hit by a Metro train. The newspapers told us it was a suicide, but I'm starting to doubt the validity of that claim."

That did it. She couldn't stay in the hammock anymore! Campanella put Raichu down and reached for her coat. "To hell with the curfew! I need to wake up the kids and get us outta here!"

If Cynthia was in _that_ much danger; then Campanella was prepared to go outside, borrow Zed's car, and brave the Kinzonian highways until they made it to another town: Hydrargyrum City or otherwise. If the KSP stopped her, she'd deal with them then. Right now, all she could focus on was keeping her little friends safe. If they simply sat around and waited for legal permission to leave the city, it would be too late!

"An' you need to tell the police what you just told me."

"Campanella…" Zed sounded more frightened than ever. "He's a Gym Leader! I c-can't just—"

"I don't know if Jet pushed that girl or not; but I know damn well he threatened mine!" She saw Cyrus's sleepy head begin to rise from the futon. Cynthia groaned and nuzzled closer to him, latching on like an adorable blonde parasite. They were starting to stir, but that was fine. They needed to know what was going on. "If anything happens to either one of those kids, Myrtle's gonna flip her gourd! They're—"

A rock flew through the window and landed in the hammock: right where Campanella and her Raichu had been less than a minute ago. Raichu squeaked in surprise and swatted her tail at the projectile. "Raaaaaaai!" She pointed at the rock with a brown nubby arm in an attempt to get her trainer's attention…not that she needed to.

"FUCK! FUCK FUCK GODDAMMIT FUCK!"

Both of the kids were awake now; and clinging to each other. Their eyes looked like they were going to bug out of their heads. Cyrus's breathing was fast and ragged, while Cynthia shivered and latched onto him until it hurt. "What…" Cynthia stammered. "Wh-what's happening?"

"YOUR FUCKIN' BOYFRIEND FOUND US, THAT'S WHAT!"

By this point, everyone's fight or flight response kicked into overdrive. Campanella could tell from the frightened looks on the kids' faces that they wanted to run. She could do that, too; but her primal brain wanted to stay behind and fight. Someone had to be the hero and rescue the group. If she could do it on the train, she might as well do it again.

Campanella's eyes darted around the room in a desperate attempt to find something she could use to ward off whatever threw that rock. She had her Pokémon; but she didn't want to call anything out and start using attacks while they were indoors. This was still Zed's home!

Something was scaling the side of the building. She strongly suspected it was that baby-sized shadow she'd seen lurking in the parking lot. Along with the shuffling sounds, Campanella heard the same godawful groaning noise from earlier. It was getting louder by the second.

"Get dressed and grab your shit. _Now_!"

As much as Cyrus didn't want to change in front of everyone, he still did what Campanella said. His face, shoulders, and even his half-healed scratches turned pink from embarrassment. As quick as he was to get dressed, Cynthia was even faster. She was so worried that something like this would happen that she'd slept with her bra on.

Once the both of them were dressed, Cyrus looked directly at Campanella with anxious eyes. "What's the plan, Campanella? What do we do!?"

"Chuuuu!" Raichu bounced and squeaked to get everyone's attention. In her front paws was something long, metallic, and slightly curved at the end: a crowbar. "Rai rai!"

"Nice find, Raichu!" Campanella didn't even attempt to hide the relief she was feeling. "Give it to Mama!"

The big orange mouse hurried over to Campanella's side and presented the crowbar as though it were the key to Kalium City itself. Typically, such keys were symbolic entrances. This one was a symbolic exit. Campanella patted the top of her Pokémon's head, called her a good girl, and put her back in her Poké Ball.

With the crowbar good and secure in her right hand, she felt ready to take on whatever was outside. "A'ight, kids. I'm gonna fight off whatever the fuck's attackin' us. While it's distracted, I want y'all to run to the Metro Station as fast as your legs can take ya."

"What about you!?" Cynthia was holding on to Cyrus so tightly that it was a miracle the boy could breathe. Instead of pushing her off or asking her to quit, he just let her keep doing it. "We can't just leave you here!"

"Cynthia's right." Cyrus kept one arm defensively curled around his friend's shoulders. "Everyone here has at least one Pokémon. Between Golbat, Spiritomb, Raichu, and—why are you shaking your head at me?"

Campanella tried to steady her grip, just so nobody would notice how badly she was trembling. "A Pokémon battle's gonna attract too much attention. Once folks start wakin' up, I reckon someone'll call the cops. This is the quietest out I can give ya. I'll meet y'all at the station, okay? Just go on without me!"

Cyrus's breathing sounded even more ragged than before. Like everyone else in the room, he was trying (and failing) to mask his panic. "You just got out of jail this morning! If the KSP catch you breaking curfew—"

"The KSP ain't the ones tryin' to murder your pal, Cyrus! I ain't too worried about them right now!"

Time was running out and Campanella needed to make a decision. If they continued to sit there and bitch, that thing would make its way into the building. Once that happened, it would be too late to save anyone. Campanella could literally hear the Pokémon less than a meter away from the window.

Now was the time to act. She clutched the crowbar like a baseball bat, stomped toward the window, and waited for the creature to make its way inside.

"Cruuuuuuuuuuugh…" Two tiny black hands with orange middle fingers appeared on the windowsill. A pair of bright yellow eyes surfaced out of the shadows and glared at Campanella. The Croagunk snickered and croaked, puffing up its orange cheeks in an attempt to look even more threatening. "Guuuuuh…"

This was it! If she didn't strike now, then she'd never strike at all! Campanella let loose a loud roar and swung at the Croagunk with all she had…and missed. "Dammit! Grrr…fuck off, would ya!?"

Despite her best efforts, prying the crowbar out of the busted wood was nothing short of impossible. No matter how much she struggled and strained; it refused to budge. Not only could she hear the Croagunk laugh at her, but she smelled the acid in its breath. The Pokémon grabbed one end of the lodged crowbar and tried to pull it toward him.

"Fuck OFF! That's mine!" Campanella bumped heads with the Croagunk and made a series of loud noises in an attempt to intimidate him into backing off; but the Pokémon stood his ground.

She yanked the crowbar again, but so did he. And once he had a good grip on it, the Croagunk released a noxious substance from his fingers onto the metal…which made quick work of dissolving Campanella's leather gloves. When the toxin reached her exposed hands, Campanella felt it seep inside her pores: like rubbing alcohol on an open cut, only ten times worse. She screamed, but her auditory anguish only seemed to make it hurt more.

Her hands looked like hamburger and were turning scarlet. All she could figure was this goddamn thing was trying to dissolve her all the way down to the bone. "WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?! RUN! RUUUUUUN!"

As much as Cyrus wanted to do exactly that, there was one big snag in the plan: he didn't know where the Metro Stations were. Their train never made it to the station and he'd spent most of the past week in the hospital.

"Where's the station?" he asked Cynthia, hoping she knew; but she didn't answer. Instead, she pried herself out of his grasp and made a mad dash for Zed's bathroom. "What the—what are you doing?! You can go at the station!"

"I don't have to pee, Cyrus! I'm trying to help Campanella!" As terrified as Cynthia was of her own predicament, Campanella's hands were an even more urgent priority. "Check the kitchen sink for drain cleaner! I'll look for bleach or detergent!"

Cyrus was about to ask Cynthia why she needed drain cleaner, but then it hit him: the Croagunk's saliva was acidic. She wanted to find something basic so they could neutralize the pH on Campanella's hands. Okay. That was fair. If Campanella was willing to sacrifice herself for their escape, the least they could do was spare 10 seconds to look for a quick fix to save her hands.

Right as he stepped into the kitchen area; Zed blocked him. Cyrus tried to get around him, but Zed was built like an Ursaring. It was nothing short of impossible. "You don't have time to do that. Besides, I know where those things are. I'll help Campanella, but you two need to hide!"

"WHAT THE FUCK, ZED?!" Campanella wailed. "THERE AIN'T TIME FOR THEM TO HIDE! EACH SECOND THEY WASTE, THEY'RE—"

"A great deal safer than they'd be outside!" Zed snapped back.

As gentle and pleasant a person as he typically was, tonight had worn on his last nerve. He was scared, tired, and upset that both his home and friend were being brutalized by the local Gym Leader's pet.

"At least in here, I have places I can hide them until I explain the situation to the KSP. If they leave, they'll have more than just an angry Gym Leader to worry about!" His sweaty head turned toward Cyrus, eyes filled with dread over what he and Cynthia would decide to do. "Please, I'm begging you. Let me hide you. I think I…that I…I…erh…"

As Zed continued to garble up his words and dart his black eyes toward the front door, Cyrus saw Cynthia hurry out of the bathroom with the bleach. She doused it on Campanella's hands, grabbed their bags, and made it clear that she was following his lead. There was just one problem.

He didn't know what they should do.

If they ran, what guarantee did they have that Jet _only_ sent his Croagunk? For all they knew, the Meditite and Hariyama could be waiting in the parking lot, possibly even with their trainer. And Jet was huge! Even if they tried to take him down together, there was no way they'd succeed against someone that strong.

Zed was right about something else: if they left the Lodge, Jet wouldn't be their only problem. The moment they stepped outdoors, they would be breaking curfew. Cyrus didn't know if Officer Kuznetsov wrote them up for that in Plumbum City, but this would be their second documented offense if he did.

Staying put seemed like a bad idea, too. Cyrus could tell Zed believed hiding was their best choice, but he'd seen what that Croagunk had already managed to do to Campanella. Even if they subdued it; that Pokémon could hurt the other guests, further damage Zed's home, and possibly even kill somebody before the police arrived.

And that brought him to the worst variable of all: the KSP.

Like Jet, they were convinced Cynthia was the bomber. Despite the fact that wasn't true, she did match the description reported to the news. It would be Jet's word against a foreigner's…and that was assuming the KSP even let Cynthia talk. Cyrus doubted they would. They wanted that Metro up and running again. It just made more sense to shut her up.

All their options were bad, but he needed to make a choice…and he needed to make it _now_.

…

 **Author's Note: In the past, I mentioned that this story contains alternate endings. Some are good, some are bad; but all of them show you a different way the story could have ended. Your first divergent chapter will appear soon, because you (like Cyrus and Cynthia) have a choice to make!**

 **If you think they should run to the Metro, proceed to Chapter 55. If you think they should try to hide, proceed to Chapter 56.**

 **I won't tell you which choice is correct, but do keep in mind that the "bad" choice is going to be rather gory. If you're sensitive to such things and you choose the wrong answer, just proceed to the other chapter.**


	55. A Mad Dash for the Metro

**Author's Note: Congratulations. You just unlocked this story's first "bad end!"**

 **If you're sensitive to gore and graphic character death; I strongly suggest you skip this chapter, pretend you _didn't_ make this choice, and proceed to Chapter 56. If "Corpse Party" levels of gore don't bother you, then continue below and watch the sparks fly.**

 **…**

Zed Levin was a good person, but even good people had their limits. As much as Cyrus wanted to believe Zed's offer to hide them was sincere; Lodge Owners had to think about the safety of the entire Lodge first. If it was a choice between keeping two guests safe and keeping everyone else safe, Cyrus knew what choice he'd make.

He wouldn't vote in his favor, either. "Grab what you can, but don't take anything heavy. You'll only weigh yourself down."

On travel days, they packed efficiently: consolidating their laundry, food, and extra inventory into the larger bags. Their backpacks were for day-to-day traveling only: passports, PokéStats, address books, some Pokémon medicine, a couple of snack bars, a bottle of water, one change of clothes, basic toiletries, and their wallets. Cyrus also had a pocketknife, but Cynthia didn't need to know that. They hopefully wouldn't have to use it.

The backpacks were enough. Everything else was a lost cause. Maybe Zed could mail their things to the Hydrargyrum Lodge, but Cyrus wasn't going to lose any sleep over that. They could always buy more of these things in the next town.

For a moment, he thought Cynthia would challenge his decision. Instead, she firmly nodded her head to show she was in complete agreement. "Okay. Let's do this."

"You're making a mistake!" Zed called out, even as Cyrus reached for the door. "Please, I'm begging you! Let me move you to one of the other rooms and—"

"No, Zed." This time, it was Cynthia who spoke up. "I'm scared, but I'm not about to put more people in danger. We have to run." With that, she walked past Cyrus and began her descent down the stairs. He promptly followed behind her, not even bothering to check and see if Campanella was coming too.

He felt a tad guilty for hoping she wasn't. There was no way they could sneak out with somebody that loud in their party.

During the daytime, the top floor was one of the most relaxing parts of the Kalium Lodge. As chaotic as downstairs could be, this was a sanctuary for anyone who could afford a private room. It reminded Cyrus of his quiet dinner with Renata, the kind words Dr. Plutarski wrote in his recommendation letter, and making amends with Cynthia after their first real argument.

That room had been safe once. Now he could only view it as a trap.

It was also uncomfortably cold. He could see his breath and parts of his face were already turning numb. Although he managed to stop his teeth from chattering, he couldn't stop his body from shivering. Out of instinct, moved closer to Cynthia. She was trembling, too; and probably for the same reason.

He had anticipated stumbling around in the dark, but the lights were on in some of the private rooms. "I guess the commotion upstairs woke up some of the guests," Cynthia whispered, cringing. "That's not good."

Cyrus placed a finger to his lips, hoping Cynthia would understand he wasn't shushing her to be rude. Something could be lying in wait. The more noise they made, the easier they'd be to locate. To prove she got the message, Cynthia pretended to pull an invisible zipper across her lips and winked at him.

Their first obstacle was their old room. The door was still open, meaning anything watching them from the bay window would see them walk by. It was also why the hall was deathly cold. Something broke the window, and that same something was probably waiting for them to return.

Cyrus crouched, preparing to move past the room in a horizontal fashion. Crawling on all fours wasn't very dignified, but at least he'd be harder to spot in the dark. There was just one problem: his body didn't want to move like that. When he tried to hoist himself back up, some of the stitches in his back stretched to an uncomfortable degree of tightness.

Noticing her friend was struggling, Cynthia stopped what she was doing and helped him back to his feet. As appreciative as Cyrus was, he hoped she wouldn't do that again. Jet was after Cynthia, so she needed to take every available opportunity to run ahead; even if that meant leaving her friends behind.

Passing by the other rooms was a different type of challenge. For their room, all they had to worry about was being seen. For these others, they didn't want to be felt or heard. Cynthia walked on the tips of her toes and Cyrus did his best to take slow, cautious steps. He just wished the floors were made of concrete or covered in carpet. By complete accident, he stepped on a noisy plank.

All the blood from his face drained when he heard a woman in a nearby room ask if someone was in the hall. When the doorbell started to rattle, he grabbed Cynthia's arm and sprinted toward the stairs. He was internally kicking himself for his lack of stealth. Now all they could do was make a mad dash for the door and pray nothing was expecting them in the parking lot.

Just a few hours ago, that lobby was teeming with people. Now the only sign of life was a slouched over body at one of the computer terminals. The light from the big analog monitor was just enough for Cyrus to recognize Lulu's hideous yellow flannel shirt. The Hoennese auditor snored loudly as the monitor played nothing back but an endless, glitchy maze screensaver.

Lulu was their friend, which meant she'd recognize them if she woke up. Just as she'd done outside earlier, Cynthia lifted up the hood of her jacket and tightened the drawstrings until only her eyes were visible. Cyrus followed suit and sprinted for the front door, pausing only when he heard a loud, visceral shriek come from the top floor.

The heavy thumping sound of Campanella's boots on the hardwood were becoming increasingly loud. He could tell Cynthia wanted to stick around long enough for Campanella to catch up, but there wasn't time for that. Cyrus ended up pushing her outside, imploring her to run.

"Go! She'll catch up!" He didn't know that for sure, but Cynthia wouldn't budge unless he reassured her. Whatever chance they had of leaving the Trainers Lodge in silence was officially gone, but they still had a shot at this. He wasn't ready to give up yet.

Outdoors was somehow even colder than the room with the broken window. If they stayed still for too long; they'd risk frostbite, hypothermia, or worse. Any bit of dawdling would cost them precious mobility. Cyrus took a deep breath, but ended up coughing. The cold air felt like it was laced with needles. "Which way is the Metro?"

"H-huh?"

"WHERE DO WE GO?!" He just hoped she knew that he was raising his voice out of fear, not anger. Once they were on the train, he'd apologize for shouting. She deserved better than to be snapped at.

Cynthia looked around, trying her best to figure out where they were. She'd spent the past week exploring several parts of Kalium City, but only during the day. The landscape changed at night, especially with most of the lights turned off. Entire city blocks were cloaked in darkness, making every stubborn neon sign's glow that much more pronounced.

One of the few remaining lights was the hospital's bright blue H, as well as some dimly flashing blue lights to show ambulances where to park. That landmark was all Cynthia needed to get her bearings. "This way!" She reached for Cyrus's arm, but was confused when he recoiled. "What are you doing? I'm just—"

"Holding my hand will only slow you down." He could tell she wanted to protest this, but he wouldn't let her. "I'll keep up with you, I promise."

And with both arms free, he could reach for both his Poké Balls and defend her if he had to. Now that he had a Potassium Badge to keep Golbat in check, he could call him out and face off against whatever Pokémon Jet threw their way. Out of everything they had, Golbat was their best bet. Spiritomb was too conspicuous.

It didn't take long for Cyrus to realize Cynthia was in much better physical shape. Not only could she run more quickly, but she also didn't tire as easily. Kalium General Hospital was less than two kilometers from the Trainers Lodge, but Cyrus was out of breath and his feet were screaming by the time they crossed their second junction.

He hoped Cynthia would keep running, but she stopped every time she noticed he was struggling. She gestured for him to follow her into a back alley and then proceeded to place her body flush to a nearby building. "We can go a little slower this way," she suggested. "At least until you're a bit less winded. I know you want me to leave you, but I'm not doing that."

"Don't be stupid," Cyrus wheezed. His heart was protesting all the cardio, even going so far as to restrict part of his airflow. His pulse was so erratic that his uvula felt like it had swollen to the size of a plum. It hurt to talk.

"I'd rather be stupid than get you killed!" That sounded much more like the girl he knew rather than the startled creature who left the Kalium Gym. "If we need to stop for a bit—"

At the risk of looking stubborn, Cyrus firmly shook his head. Slowing down would be fine, but his body would shut down and collapse the moment he went still.

"Okay. Suit yourself, Cyrus. We'll keep going."

As Cyrus tried to catch his breath; he made sure that every step he took was cautious, calculated, and quiet. He kept his body flush to a wall so his silhouette would blend in with the nearby dumpsters. Cynthia did the same. Unless someone or something knew what to look for, they wouldn't notice any motion in the alley.

For the next couple of blocks, Cynthia was quiet as the grave. Cyrus tried to do the same, but the combination of intense cardio and subzero temperatures made it near impossible to hold back his coughs. He did his best to muffle the noise because he feared something would hear him. At least they had successfully made it across the street from Kalium General Hospital.

"Good news: this is the home stretch. All we have to do is make a right up ahead and run toward the red light. And Cyrus?" Cynthia's tone sounded mildly embarrassed, but grateful all the same. "Thanks for staying with me. I'd be way more scared if I had to do this alone."

When she said that, Cyrus felt a bit of warmth creep into his numb face. "You'd be fine," he sputtered, not wanting to look Cynthia in the eye. She made him sound like some kind of badass, but he felt more like dead weight. "You're tougher than you think." He couldn't see that well in the dark, but he was fairly certain Cynthia smiled at him.

That tender moment was cut short by the sound of large feet crumpling snow and ice on asphalt. Whoever it was, they were getting closer. It could be Campanella, but it could also be Jet or a police officer. There was no point in sticking around to find out. "We need to run again. How close is the station?"

Cynthia poked her head out of the alley just long enough to estimate the distance. "Half a kilometer, give or take. You see that building over there: the one with the red neon sign?" How could he miss it? It was the only light still flashing on that road. "That's where we need to go. Do you need a moment?"

The stomping sound was getting closer. On top of it, Cyrus now heard a second noise: the lightweight patter of Pokémon feet. Even with the two neon lights illuminating part of the street, all he could see were two silhouettes. One, he recognized immediately as Jet's Croagunk. In its arms was a banged up crowbar.

Any hope that the footsteps were Campanella's died when he saw the behemoth trotting beside Croagunk. It had to be two meters tall and made entirely of muscle. Either that was Jet's Hariyama or the Gym Leader himself. Either prospect was bad news.

Cyrus backed up, hoping that neither silhouette spotted him; but he accidentally bumped into a trash can and knocked it over. The lid clattered when it hit the ground, startling several feral Pokémon that had been living in a nearby dumpster. As they scurried off in all directions, he knew this was it. They needed to run right now. There wasn't even time for a count to three.

He zipped past Cynthia and ran toward the Metro Station like his life depended on it. It didn't take long for her to catch up and pass him.

The Croagunk shrieked and waved its crowbar like a war banner. "CRUUUUUUH!" it croaked before letting loose a shrill, high pitched cackle.

The noise sparked a chain reaction. Every second, five or six more flats turned on their lights. In some of the windows, Cyrus saw angry human silhouettes. Some had telephones in hand. Others shook their fists and made other rude gestures. One woman even had a child to each side of her. All three made the slit-the-throat sign.

Cyrus bolted through the Metro Station doors, relieved to find they weren't locked. Cynthia rushed past him and propped herself onto the railing of the stairs. Typically, Cyrus would have advised her not to do that because it was so dangerous; but it shaved several seconds off her sprint. He tried to work up the courage to do the same, but couldn't find it.

As he made his descent, he saw red and blue lights flash against the station's white tile. Police sirens wailed as a swarm of black vans parked outside the building. Men in knee-length gray coats stepped out, paired off with Houndooms and Ursarings. "ПРЕКРАТИТЬ БЕГ! БЕГ БУДЕТ РАССМАТРИВАТЬСЯ КАК СОПРОТИВЛЕНИЕ АРЕСТУ!"

Cyrus only recognized three words, but that was enough to pick up the general gist: _stop, run, arrest_.

If Cynthia had already escaped, he probably would have turned himself over to the KSP and tried to explain the situation; but she wasn't in the clear yet. She was still making her way to the Hydrargyrum train's terminal and Jet's Pokémon were still in hot pursuit. The officer tried to bark something else at the frightened teenagers, but was sucker-punched by the larger shadow and knocked to the ground.

The Metro had flickering fluorescent lighting, so Cyrus could more easily see what had been following Croagunk. It was Jet's Hariyama. The Pokémon puffed up his muscles and began moving toward him. He wasn't very fast, but the ground quivered with every stomp.

Croagunk zipped ahead of his partner, black paws happily holding onto the crowbar. In the light, Cyrus realized something he mercifully hadn't noticed earlier: that piece of metal was completely soaked in blood. At the very tip was a significant amount of red hair…and some kind of grayish-pink matter.

Campanella wasn't coming.

Terrified as he'd been before, this was when the panic finally set in. Despite his best efforts to keep calm for Cynthia's sake, Cyrus could no longer do so. He ran as fast as he could, praying he'd be quick enough to outrun the two Pokémon and catch up with his friend. Every time the KSP shouted at him to stop running, that only motivated him to run faster.

Jet's smarmy face was everywhere: every safety poster, advertisement flier, billboard, and television screen. His voice echoed through every speaker, happily announcing the destinations of each platform. "Welcome to the Kinzo Inter-Metro!" The first time Cyrus heard that voice, he'd thought nothing of it. Now that voice filled him with nothing but dread. "Please keep an eye on your belongings at all times!"

Jet's spiel about reporting unattended luggage and having the Metro Pass ready before reaching the turnpike came next. Cyrus knew the whole script by now. As unnerving as it was to see and hear Jet in a prerecorded capacity, he couldn't shake the feeling he was also hearing him in person. He looked around, half expecting to find Jet hiding next to one of his ads.

That momentary lapse in judgment lasted less than a second, but that was all the Hariyama needed. The Pokémon's powerful hands reached for the metal railing, ripped it out of the wall, and hurled it to the opposite side of the corridor. There wasn't even time for Cyrus's brain to register what was going on before he was airborne.

His head and back slammed against the tile, forcing all the air out of his lungs. He tried to steady himself, but the spots in his eyes made it impossible to see where he was going. Instead of securely placing his foot on a stair, he slipped and tumbled down the rest of the flight. Each time his body came made contact with the concrete, more stitches ripped loose.

By the time he finally hit the bottom, Cyrus's body was one big bruise. Blood pooled into parts of his clothes from where his body tore open, but bruises and cuts were one thing. A dislocated shoulder and broken wrist were something else entirely. He wanted to scream, but his lungs and ribs hurt too much to muster anything beyond a pitiful groan.

It was a miracle he didn't break his neck, but that may have been preferable. If his spinal cord had snapped, at least those areas would be numb instead of in agony.

Behind him, he could hear the Croagunk's high-pitched giggling as well as a low, grunt-like groan from the Hariyama. They weren't running anymore. Now that one of their targets was incapacitated, they could afford to take their time. With each step, their shadows grew larger until they completely engulfed Cyrus.

Instead of brandishing the crowbar, the Croagunk had opted to drag it behind him: just so everyone could hear it scrape and clack against the stairs. Once the Pokémon made it to the bottom step, it swung the piece of metal like a pendulum and grinned at its victim. It was getting into position to swing again.

It didn't matter how much pain Cyrus was in. An aching body was still preferable to a dead one.

He tried to force himself back upright, only to flop over when he put too much pressure on his injured arm. This time, there was enough warm air in his lungs for a loud, anguished scream to leave his throat. To his horror, that scream echoed down the corridors. Until that moment, the pattering sound of Cynthia's boots had been getting quieter. Now they were getting louder.

"CYRUS?!" Oh Arceus. She was coming. "CYRUS, WHAT HAPPENED?!"

Cyrus's face was hot and wet, but he couldn't blame it all on the blood. His eyes were so badly clouded with tears that the Croagunk and Hariyama were barely recognizable blurs.

This was it: the point where he realized how truly fucked they were. He wasn't just clumsy and weak. He was stupid, too. Now all he could do was watch as Cynthia lost her last real chance at leaving this horrible place alive, just because she refused to leave him behind.

' _Why do you have to be so goddamn noble!? Why can't you do the selfish thing for once and save yourself!?_ '

Out of the corner of his eye, Cyrus saw Jet's Croagunk tighten his grip on the crowbar and hold it up like a baseball bat. If he tried to warn Cynthia, that thing would hit him. And this time, he wouldn't be lucky. As soon as that crowbar made impact with the back of his skull, he'd either be dead or spend the remainder of his miserable days as a vegetable in some run-down shithole hospital like the one he just left.

It took a moment to work up the courage to make any noise, but all that came out was a pitiful mewl. When he tried again; he took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and came to terms with the fact he was probably about to die. At least he wouldn't die a coward. "I'M FINE!" he lied, hoping she believed him. "KEEP GOING, CYNTHIA! I'M RIGHT BEHI—"

Croagunk struck hard, but aimed for his side rather than his head. The pain in Cyrus's chest was unbearable, and he once more found it near impossible to breathe. Cold air was bad. Cold air and running was an even worse combination. This went beyond that because he felt like he was suffocating. The pain alone caused him to cough, but that didn't make it any easier to breathe. If anything, it made it worse.

As his heart pounded with abandon and his breathing turned frantic, Cyrus realized what had happened. The blow had broken a few ribs, and one of them had punctured a lung. One whole side of his body wasn't getting oxygen anymore. Without emergency care, he was going to die here. All he could hope was Cynthia bought his act and changed her mind about coming to save him.

She didn't.

He could hear more than just her feet now. She was so close that he heard her Poké Balls clacking together with every step. Then…it stopped. The rubber soles of her heels squeaked on the concrete when she saw him, and then she let loose the most heart-wrenching, devastated sob he'd ever heard. She tried to say his name a few times, but all that came out was hysterical nonsense.

Cynthia reached in her pocket for a Poké Ball—probably to fight off Jet's Pokémon so they could make a run for it—but Cyrus never found out which Pokémon she planned to use. Before she could even get the ball out, Jet's Hariyama pushed his way past everyone else so he could grab her. Cynthia screamed and tried to break free, but it was no use. Hariyama wasn't very fast, but he didn't have to be.

One of Croagunk's black paws curled into Cyrus's hair and gave it a hard yank, forcing him to look at it. The blue frog grinned, stared at him with its piss-yellow eyes, and dragged him toward the stairs so he could sit upright.

"ВЫЗОВИТЕ СКОРУЮ!" one of the KSP officers shouted, pushing one of the shorter men toward a pay phone. "МЫ ХОТИМ ЕГО ДОПРОСИТЬ!" He then hurried ahead of the others with a pair of handcuffs in hand. "Вы! Мальчик! Оставайтесь на месте! Мы получим доктора!"

' _You…boy…stop running…_ ' If he wasn't about to say goodbye to this world, he'd pat himself on the back for understanding that much Kinzonian. ' _…doctor…_ ' They were probably telling him to stay put so they could call an ambulance.

There was next to nothing else he could do for Cynthia, but he still had to try. He'd breathe his last down here. Of that, he was certain. Even if the KSP were being honest and took him to the hospital, Cyrus doubted he'd survive the ride. He could either be a good boy for the Kinzonian Secret Police, or he could fight these monsters one last time and pray that was enough to save his friend.

He chose the latter and called Golbat out of his ball. Even though his Pokémon glared at him, at least it wasn't attacking him on sight anymore. "Huh…h-help…" Cyrus rasped, already worried by how much effort it took to talk. Even a big gasp did nothing to bring the much needed oxygen to his body. His fingertips were turning blue and numb.

"Bat?" Seeing his trainer this badly roughed up invoked some empathy from Golbat. He stepped closer, not sure what Cyrus wanted him to do.

Since talking was becoming increasingly difficult, Cyrus pointed toward the Croagunk. Golbat took the hint and hit the other Pokémon with a Wing Attack, knocking it out instantly. He couldn't exactly tell Golbat he'd done a good job without losing more air, so he gave the Pokémon a thumbs up instead.

Next, he pointed to the hood of his coat and pointed upward with his good arm. ' _Help me up,_ ' in other words. Golbat flew over to him, chomped down on the fabric, and helped the boy get back on his feet. It was the first time Cyrus had managed to stand upright since he fell down the stairs. To his relief, his ankles were fine. In fact, nothing in his legs seemed to be broken. His arm and chest had taken the brunt of the abuse.

' _Okay…I can't run, but I can walk! And that Hariyama isn't very fast…_ ' He still felt dizzy and needed to steady himself with his good arm. At least he could keep himself stable enough to point in the direction of Hariyama's heavy footsteps and Cynthia's screams. "Heeeeeeehlp…huuuur…"

Golbat screeched at that command not out of anger toward his human, but fear for what could happen to the other human. Cynthia had taken good care of him while Cyrus was hurt. In the end, Cyrus left the hospital and got better. It stood to Golbat's reasoning that he could do it again. If he left Cyrus, maybe he'd be okay. He didn't know what was happening to Cynthia, but she needed him.

The Pokémon flew deeper into the subway, screeching and making noise so Cyrus could follow him. ' _Yeah, I know. I'm going as fast as I can!_ '

His legs were falling asleep. By the time Cyrus made it to the end of one corridor, he couldn't feel his toes anymore. By the next one, he was stumbling because his feet didn't want to cooperate. His ankles were going stiff and everything below his knees felt twice as heavy. In the distance and growing ever nearer were those police officers, once again saying those three words: _you_. _Boy_. _Stop_.

Following the sound of Golbat's voice made sense, but then he passed Jet's Hariyama in the hall. The Pokémon's hands were empty and shaking. It didn't make eye contact with Cyrus, nor did it go near him. All it did was grunt a couple of times and stomp off. Maybe Cyrus was imagining things, but the Hariyama's face appeared to be coated in sweat. The last thing he saw the creature do was punch a wall and make a weird crying noise.

"GOLBAT?!" Cynthia called out. "OVER HERE, BUDDY! I COULD REALLY USE SOME HELP RIGHT ABOUT NOW!"

She didn't realize how true that statement actually was. This was the platform for the Kalium-to-Hydrargyrum train. Assuming the post-curfew schedule ran in the same increments as the pre-curfew schedule, a train would dock at the station in less than two minutes.

Hoping to spot his friend's location, Cyrus frantically looked around the station. It appeared to be vacant, but then he saw something right where the station met the subterranean tunnel. Golbat was trying to pull something out of the dark: something much too heavy for a Pokémon his size to manage alone.

' _Cynthia!_ '

Even though his feet felt like a pair of pincushions, Cyrus stumbled over there as fast as he could. His thighs and back were going numb and it was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe. It would take everything he had to make it over there in time, but Cynthia's only hope of getting out involved having someone else pull her out. _That_ , he could still do.

Even though it hurt like hell, he clapped his hands together to let Golbat know he was here. The big bat had never looked happier to see him.

"Cyrus? Is that you!?" Cynthia asked worriedly. She jumped up and down a couple of times, just to make sure. When she saw her bloodied and battered friend shambling toward her like a zombie, she gasped. "Oh my _Arceus_ , Cyrus! You're—"

He fell over and landed on his knees. Normally, that action would have hurt; but he'd stopped feeling his legs thirty seconds ago. As his breathing devolved into nothing but ragged wheezes and strained gasps, he held out his good arm and mouthed three words to her: "Take it. _Climb!_ "

There was some initial protest in her steely gray eyes, and Cyrus understood why. She probably didn't want to hurt him, especially since he looked so rough. Once it finally dawned on Cynthia that she was in no position to turn down free help, she muttered a quick apology and hurriedly removed her gloves. She tossed them onto the platform and placed her bare hands on her friend's good arm. "Try not to let me pull you down."

All he could do was wheeze, groan, and give her a weak smile to show he understood. And just to be additional support, Golbat latched onto Cynthia's coat and began flapping his wings. He couldn't lift her on his own, but maybe the extra effort would make it easier to climb upward.

"I'll try to be gentle. Tell me if I'm not."

She wasn't. The more the girl tugged and pulled, the more ribs Cyrus felt crack in his chest. His lungs felt like two deflated balloons and his poor heart was on the verge of giving up. As the numbness spread to his stomach, something much worse than his personal suffering registered with his failing nerves.

Not only did he hear and feel the train's vibrations; but he saw a faint light growing brighter with each passing moment. They didn't have minutes anymore. They barely had seconds.

He wheezed a bewildered plea for Cynthia to stop fucking around and hurry up. This wasn't funny. The terrified look on her face made it all too apparent that she agreed; but she couldn't climb any faster without potentially killing him. The only way this would go faster would be if he offered his broken arm, too.

' _Screw it. There's no way I'm surviving this, anyway._ '

It took every last ounce of willpower to fight his body's pleas for self-preservation, but Cyrus managed to extend his broken arm. Cynthia grabbed hold of it and climbed as fast as she could. "Pull me," she pleaded. "Can you do that!? If you can, you'll—"

The impact was instantaneous, but it still took Cyrus several seconds to process what had happened. One moment, he had his friend by her hands. The next, _all_ he had were her hands. They were still warm and clutching onto him tightly, but Cynthia Shirona was no longer attached to them.

The train made a horrible noise as it came to a halt: like a large car making impact with a wild Stantler. The doors opened and the intercom happily announced in Jet's voice that Train F—Kalium City to Hydrargyrum City—had arrived at the station. Passengers had 90 seconds to find a seat and were reminded to please save the priority seats for small children, pregnant women, the elderly, and the infirm.

Realizing that he may have hit something, the train's conductor slowly backed up. That only made even more noises: an awful squelching sound. When the front of the train was visible again, it was covered in red mist. Everything was so badly mangled that it was next to impossible to tell what viscera used to be Cynthia and what used to be Golbat. The only identifiable things were a piece of Golbat's wing and Cynthia's blood-soaked blonde hair.

Cyrus wanted to scream, but he had finally run out of air. The KSP officers surrounded the platform and began barking more orders in their mother tongue, but it may as well have been white noise.

All he could focus on were those hands…


	56. Sit and Wait

**Author's Note 1: Congratulations. You chose the** " **correct" ending! Chapter 55 was the story's first alternate ending: a bad end, no less. This chapter will wrap up the Kalium City arc and bring us to the start of the Hydrargyrum City arc! Based off discussions with some of my beta readers, that arc will be a separate file-meaning this one will be marked as "Complete" and we'll begin the new arc on December 30!  
**

 **Author's Note 2: The song that plays in the alarm clock scene is a real song: Листья (Leaves) by Чёрный кофе (Black Coffee). If 1980s Soviet heavy metal sounds like something you'd be interested in hearing, check them out on YouTube!**

 **Author's Note 3: Special thanks to seiauton for (once again) doing a much better job than Google Translate with a random bit of German. You're awesome, Julia!**

 **…**

Before Cyrus even said anything, Cynthia anticipated running. Staying put made no sense. Even if Zed managed to call the police, it would still take a while before an officer arrived at the Trainers Lodge. And while they sat there and waited for help to arrive, Jet and his Pokémon would have a slew of opportunities to neutralize what he perceived to be a threat.

Defending themselves probably wouldn't work well, either. Neither one of them went to the Pokémon Center after their gym battle, so all they could do was medicate their teams with their limited supplies. Both of their Eevees were at full health, but they wouldn't last long against Jet's team.

Cynthia's body felt like a jack-in-the-box: like every last muscle in her legs was coiled up and ready to spring loose. She could run pretty damn fast, and she knew where the Metro Station was. She'd passed it on the way to the Kalium Library. All they had to do was—

"Hide us."

Dumbfounded, all Cynthia could do was gawk at Cyrus. That decision had caught her completely off guard. When she finally managed to collect herself enough to speak, all she managed to stammer out were two words. "You're sure?"

In resignation, Cyrus slowly nodded his head. When he looked back at Cynthia, his eyes were very apologetic. "I don't like this, either; but I have to be realistic. I don't know if you can outrun Jet; but I know for a fact that I can't." To prove his point, he gestured toward his chest and arms. Beneath his clothes were a multitude of half-healed injuries, most of which Cynthia had already seen. "If I aggravate my stitches, they could rip open."

For a brief moment, Cynthia's panicked brain insisted she _could_ outrun Jet. She banished the thought because that would mean leaving Cyrus and Campanella behind; and she was not about to do that. Only a selfish, spineless, bus-throwing piece of garbage would leave her friends behind to fend for themselves.

"…okay." It took forever to say it, but there it was. "I trust you."

Zed hurriedly gestured for both of his guests to follow him. "This way! And don't worry about your things right now. I'll bring them later! Oh ho ho ho ho hoooooo _gahahahahahaaaaaaahd_ …"

By this point, Cynthia honestly couldn't tell if Zed was laughing or sobbing. She also couldn't tell if his face was wet with sweat or tears. Maybe it was some combination of the two. Whatever it was, she could smell the fear on him.

Cynthia held on tightly to Cyrus's hand and made her first steps out of the attic. Right behind them, she could hear poor Zed continuing to make his distraught laugh-cries. "Oh dear," he kept muttering. "Oh dear oh dear oh dear…" If she stayed put for too long, he'd nudge her to keep walking.

Zed kept his frantic mumblings to a low volume, but the noises coming from the attic were so loud that everyone on the top floor could hear them. Porcelain and glass shattered. Wood splintered. A heavy piece of metal came into contact with the floor and furniture. Campanella shouted panicked profanities as she waged war against Jet's Croagunk. Naturally, all of that made it near impossible for the other tenants to sleep.

A guest in one of the private rooms cracked opened his door and leered at the people in the hall. Half his face was covered in a crazy nest of dark teal curls, but one purple eye was visible. He squinted at Zed, then noticed the teenagers. "Zed?" The next time Campanella shouted, the man frowned deeply and asked something in a language Cynthia didn't know. "Was zum Teufel ist da oben los?"

Another door opened and an old man in an ankle-length nightgown stepped out. "It's much too early in the morning to be doing construction, comrade! Think of your poor guests!"

"Ist es ein Einbrecher?" the foreign man asked. "Oder ein wildes Pokémon?" When Zed didn't answer right away, the man's disturbingly long nails began to dig into the wood door frame. "Deckt die kinzonische Versichung Einbruchschäden ab—"

"IT ISN'T A BURGLAR, RUDOLF!" Zed's voice had gone from quiet and frantic to high-pitched and desperate. "EVERYTHING'S _FINE_!" But even as he said that, Cynthia could hear him starting to cry. There were few things in the world more awkward than seeing a large man cry—but she couldn't exactly fault him for it. He'd done nothing wrong, and yet this thing was trashing his home.

Just before Zed could offer another far-from-convincing reassurance, the foreign man with the curly hair pointed at a puddle forming on the ceiling. The soaked wood turned dark and began to dissolve, mixing together with the purple muck. Some of the substance dripped onto the floor. When it made contact with the rug, the fabric began to erode.

"That does it!" the old man in the nightshirt barked. "I'm calling the Kalium City Police. Whatever is terrorizing your friend upstairs, Mr. Levin, needs to be dealt with by the professionals."

"Thank you! You're a saint!" Zed grabbed both children by the backs of their coats and gave the old man a big, pleading smile. "Would you be so kind as to help me with one other favor? The thing upstairs is after my young friends and—"

"I apologize, but no. I'm fine with calling the police. I'm _not_ fine with getting involved."

Zed let loose another laugh-sob. This time, Cynthia heard his voice crack. He didn't say anything to the other guy: Rudolf. He just looked at him with big pleading eyes…and made another sad noise when the door slammed shut.

Cynthia looked back up at Zed. Her entire body was going pale. " _That's_ your plan!? You want us to hide in another room and put more people in danger?!" She turned back toward Cyrus, trying her best to keep her nerves in check. She was starting to hyperventilate. "And you're…y-you're sure you can't run…?"

"I can try," Cyrus offered, but he didn't sound too convinced. "But if we do that, we won't have time to go upstairs and grab our things. We'll have to leave with nothing but what we have in our pockets. If you're fine with that, then—"

"PLEASE? HELLO? ANYONE?!" Zed hadn't given up on this. He pounded on the different doors, face as red as an apple. "Pleeeeeeease! It's an EMERGENCY! I won't even bill you for tonight if you'll just OPEN UP and HELP us!" One by one, he made the rounds. Every time he knocked on a door, it was shortly followed by the sound of someone locking the deadbolt.

One second more and Cynthia would have told Cyrus to bolt. The only reason she hesitated was because a door opened. At the very end of the hall was the green-haired Unovan man she'd spoken with that morning. "You're going to keep screaming until someone caves in to your demands. Aren't you, Zed?"

Zed didn't answer right away. He just proceeded to shove both of the teens toward the open door and let loose a near-hysterical laugh of relief. "I'm so sorry about this, Mr. G! Just please, please, _please_ take them! And unless I ask you to open this door again—"

"Don't." The man moved out of the way, giving Cynthia and Cyrus a split second to dart into his room. "I do expect to be compensated for this. I have a big day tomorrow."

Zed's head nodded so fast that Cynthia was half afraid he'd pull a neck muscle. He made a mad dash for the attic, called out Campanella's name, and shut the door behind him. Even as the thumping noises and profanities intensified, she still heard the green-haired man sigh.

"So…" the man groaned as he locked his room's door. "Would one of you be so kind as to tell me why the Lodge Owner was in such a panic? What's going on out there?"

Unlike Cynthia and Cyrus's private room, this one had no windows: only wall-to-wall metal shelves stuffed to the brim with books, magazines, and various touristy knick-knacks. There was a snow globe of Katarina Square, a postcard from the wax museum, and even a cute set of hand-painted matryoshka dolls made to look like the different evolutions of the Eevee line. Even the mini-refrigerator in the corner was covered in kitschy magnets advertising some of Kalium City's biggest attractions.

The room only had one bed, which neither kid planned to ask "Mr. G" if they could use. If they somehow managed to calm down enough to sleep, they'd be doing so on a banged up sofa and its matching threadbare recliner. Something with sharp talons and big teeth had nearly clawed the entire back side of the chair to shreds.

In the far corner were two large rolling suitcases: both of which were embroidered with what appeared to be a coat of arms. Other than Mr. G's toiletries and a change of clothes for tomorrow morning; he had already packed everything back into his bags. Like everyone else in the Lodge, he'd been ready to leave Kalium City for days.

Cyrus took a moment to get Cynthia situated on the couch and then offered to help their temporary savior push a desk in front of the door. He didn't have much upper body strength, but he could at least make an effort. "Somebody's after us."

' _Not me: us._ ' That distinction wasn't lost on Cynthia. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue on Cyrus's part, but maybe there was some truth to it. Jet didn't strike her as sloppy (or stupid) enough to leave a witness behind. Silencing Cynthia meant silencing anyone who could contradict Jet's claim that he killed the bomber. They both knew the truth—as well as the name and face of the person responsible—but it wouldn't do them any good.

Now she wasn't even sure if talking to the Kalium City Police was a good idea. They'd just follow Jet's lead, wouldn't they?

"Oh?" After one strong, powerful nudge; the desk was flush to the door. Even something as powerful as a Hariyama would have a tough time breaking past that. Just to test that theory, Mr. G rattled the desk with his good arm a couple of times and it barely budged. "What for?"

Now that she was starting to feel safe again, Cynthia realized she was no longer choking on her words. "The Gym Leader thinks I bombed the train, but I didn't. We know who did, but I'm worried that the police won't believe us. We're Sinnohan, so—"

"You're right. They won't." The man yawned and proceeded to make his way back to bed. He tossed a couple of quilts to Cyrus, but the boy missed. "And believe it or not, this awful country is even more xenophobic up north. You're lucky this happened in south Kinzo, children. Sure, these people hate your people; but the south hates their western neighbors even more. Everything after Hydrargyrum City…heh…"

Laughter was supposed to make people feel more at ease; but Mr. G's low, growl-like chuckling made Cynthia feel like a trapped Pokémon. With that desk in front of the door, she couldn't escape even if she tried. While she doubted her exasperated host wanted to hurt her, his bitterness was palpable: a very present miasma in what was already stale, acid-laced air.

"If you're crazy enough to challenge the fourth Gym Leader and beyond, you'll be in for a world of hurt."

That wasn't very comforting to hear. Cynthia coughed, only to realize she could taste some bile on the back of her throat. The soup from earlier didn't agree with her anymore. "You've been up there?" Just how bad did things get?

As much as she wanted to know this, she could tell this man wasn't in any mood to humor her with too many questions. "No," he answered as he pulled up the covers and returned to bed. All he wanted was to go back to sleep, and he couldn't be any more obvious about that if he tried. "I've been fortunate enough to avoid Kinzo until now, but some of my colleagues have no sense of self preservation. The things they told me disgusted me; but at least I'm Unovan. They aren't fond of us, either; but it'll be a whole lot worse for the two of you."

Darkness swallowed the room when he shut off the lamp. Cynthia could feel Cyrus curling up beside her on the couch, so she shared the blanket and scooted closer. Feeling his body next to hers was comforting. Although she didn't feel any safer, at least she knew she wasn't alone.

Mr. G yawned, made himself comfortable in bed, and turned his back to his unwanted guests. "You're Sinnohan, so all these people will see are the descendants of their oppressors. It doesn't matter how nice or polite you are to them. They'll hate you so much that they'll be inclined to hunt you, chase you, and possibly even kill you. I could say more, but I'd rather not. If it's all the same to you, I'd rather rest…"

Sleep sounded good, but all Cynthia could bring herself to do was lie horizontal and watch the thin strip of light beneath the door. She didn't hear any more footsteps, nor did she see any legs pace back and forth…but the fact that she _might_ made it difficult to do the one thing her body craved.

…

Around sunrise, the room's alarm clock turned on and started playing music from a local radio station. The song started off soft and gentle, with lulling Kinzonian lyrics over a soft guitar. It didn't stay that way for long.

 **Нет ни братьев, ни сестёр,  
Он один на весь простор,  
Он пьянеет от свободы  
И пылает, как костёр.  
Он один на весь простор.**

The song was enough to wake Cyrus up. Once the singer's dulcet tones escalated into passionate shouting, he started nudging Cynthia in an attempt to get her up. It didn't work. Every time he tried to shake her shoulder or tap her back with a finger; all she did was curl up and nuzzle her face deeper into his bony chest.

Nudging wasn't going to be enough, it seemed. Very well. He'd just get up.

As soon as Cyrus sat upright, Cynthia's head flopped over and made contact with the couch cushions. A muffled groan left her lips, but he could tell that woke her up. "Hn…" She yawned, stretched, and covered her mouth with a hand. "I don't even remember dozing off. I wasn't too clingy or awkward last night, was I?"

"Do you want me to be honest?" That, as well as the fact Cyrus's face was somewhat pink, was an answer in and of itself.

"I'm sorry, Cyrus." From past trips with other friends, Cynthia knew she had a habit of cuddling things in her sleep. She tended to sleep with a pillow or a Pokémon in her arms, just so she wouldn't instinctively reach for another person. Still, sometimes it couldn't be helped. She'd woken up with her arms around June before, too. That didn't make this any less embarrassing.

When Mr. G rolled over to turn off the alarm, Cynthia heard him grumble something under his breath about "goddamn Sputnik music." When he sat up, both kids heard several of his joints pop. "Well, good morning. Did you two manage to sleep at all?" When both of the teenagers nodded their heads to confirm, the Unovan man yawned. "I'm guessing you'll be taking the 7:00 AM Metro to Hydrargyrum City?"

"7:00!?" Cynthia's heart skipped a beat when she noticed the time on the alarm clock: 6:02 AM. "Oh no…" It was getting hard to breathe because her panic was building up again. Jet had very clearly warned her that trying to take any train later than 6:00 AM would result in bodily harm, possibly even her death. "We can't—"

"Why not?" Mr. G interrupted. She could tell from his tone that he was starting to lose his patience.

"Jet threatened to push her in front of the train," Cyrus answered firmly. "Sir, the Metro's not an option for us anymore. I don't think we have enough money to pay a taxi to take us all the way to Hydrargyrum City, either." He was kind of at a loss for what they could possibly do, but he didn't want to scare Cynthia any further. If anything, he wanted to calm her down before this escalated into a full-blown panic attack. "We'll probably have to ask Zed if he minds making a day trip, just to drop us off."

But Mr. G was shaking his head, unkempt green hair going everywhere. He had the worst bedhead Cyrus had ever seen. It curled, coiled, and frizzed in every which way. "If you respect Zed, don't do that to him. If he leaves the Lodge for too long, an inconvenienced guest could report him to the higher ups and get him in trouble."

"What should we do, then?!" So far as Cynthia was concerned, she felt like this exhausted all their viable options. "It's not like we can walk there! And most of our friends don't have cars. They're using the Metro, which we can't do! The only other person I can think of who has a car is Renata. Cyrus, do you think she—why are you shaking your head?"

"Renata left yesterday. I don't know how she managed to do that, but she did." Cyrus hated being the bearer of bad news, but Renata Cordova was long gone. "Maybe we can call the Hydrargyrum City Trainers Lodge, just to see if she's there. If she is, we can ask if she's willing to make the drive all the way back here to get us."

Renata was a good friend and had a very caring heart. If Cyrus told her they were in danger, he was certain she'd make the trip; but he still didn't want to do that. It would be a major inconvenience for Renata and would probably put a strain on their friendship. That was still preferable to the only other alternative he knew about. He'd rather deal with a temporarily annoyed old woman than risk getting lost and killed in the Kalium Catacombs.

"What about the ferry?" Both teens turned around to look at Mr. G in complete shock. "Don't look so surprised. Kalium City has a harbor. Wouldn't it make sense to have boats going to nearby cities? You can ride a ferry to Hydrargyrum City, Plumbum City, or Natrium Town."

This revelation was a godsend! When Cynthia explored the riviera with Isaac's gang, there were many boats in the harbor. Most of what she'd seen were cargo freights and small fishing boats; but there had also been a cruise ship out there. It hadn't even crossed her mind that there would be ferries to other cities, but it made sense. Now she felt a little stupid for not realizing that was an option.

"When the city closed off the Metro, they also closed off the ferry. Now that the KSP have lifted the lockdown order, it should be open for business."

Although the ferry sounded like an answer to their prayers, there was one small thing that could make or break this plan. Cynthia took a deep breath, already worried that this would be yet another false hope. "Do you have to pay to ride it?" They were nearly broke. Anything that cost money was a no go.

When Mr. G nodded to confirm, her heart sank. But then he did something she didn't expect. "If I buy your tickets and let you ride with me, would you mind doing me a favor?"

"What do you want us to do?" Considering their only other realistic option was the catacombs, Cyrus didn't even hesitate. He grabbed Cynthia's hand protectively and tried to make himself look tougher…not that it really worked.

The man got off the bed and began running a comb through his long, wild-looking hair. "I didn't come to Kinzo to challenge their League. I'm here to represent my company at the Annual IPAA Conference. I'll be there all week, but I didn't take my Pokémon with me. There wasn't much point, seeing as I'd be gone before they made it out of quarantine anyway."

Just yesterday, Cynthia had talked with Mr. G about this. The IPAA conference was the annual gathering of regional professors, tech moguls, conservationists, breeders, and many others to talk about all things Pokémon. She would love to attend something like that, but she wasn't about to volunteer until she knew for sure that Cyrus was also on board. The last time she made a decision for the both of them, it ended in a fight.

"If the two of you don't mind shadowing me at the conference, we'll call it even. If you still insist on paying me back for the tickets and the hotel fare; a week should be more than enough time to challenge and beat the Hydrargyrum Gym Leader. So…do we have a deal?"

Cynthia could barely contain her excitement. Maybe Professor Rowan would be there, or Professor Sycamore! It would be more than Professor Myrtle, that was for sure! "I'm game if Cyrus is!"

"I'm fine with it." To Cyrus, this truly did make the most sense. Every other option was either too dangerous or too big an inconvenience to other people. "Thanks, Mr. G."

"Gropius, actually," the man corrected him. "Ghetsis Harmonia Gropius. Poor Zed had so much trouble pronouncing my name that I gave up and told him _Mr. G_ was fine. Anyway, go ahead and freshen up. Once you're ready, I'll call a taxi and get us a ride to the ferry."

They didn't have to be told twice.

Cyrus's morning routine took all of ten minutes, twenty if he had to dress up for an important function. Since he slept in his travel clothes and boots, he was ready in less than five. All he had to do was quickly run a comb through his hair and brush his teeth. Once they were at the hotel, he'd take a shower and change into his spare change of clothes.

Cynthia's hair was a good bit longer, so she ended up taking more time. Most mornings, she also put on a little bit of makeup: just enough mascara to darken her blonde eyelashes, a little concealer to hide any pink spots if she popped a pimple, and a lip stain to add some color to her face. There wasn't any point in doing any of that today: at least not until they made it to the next city.

"I don't know about you," she muttered to Cyrus, "but I'm looking forward to sleeping in a hotel bed."

The Trainers Lodges were okay, but they weren't exactly fancy. According to Professor Rowan, the IPAA always hosted their conferences in five star resorts. It was kind of hard to imagine a nation like Kinzo having luxury resorts; but the country did have a lavish past. For all she knew, this hotel could be a converted dacha or an old resort from the tsarist era.

"I'm more excited about taking a hot shower," Cyrus confessed, hoping a little small talk would lighten the mood. "And once we have things squared away; I can call Zed and let him know to mail our stuff to the hotel."

"What about Campanella? You don't think she'll be too mad that we're staying in a hotel without her, do you?"

The only part of this plan that worried Cynthia was where Campanella fit into it. She was still angry about what happened at the wax museum; but Campanella had also risked her life to keep them safe last night. Jet's Croagunk never tried to break into Mr. Gropius's private room, so it stood to reason that Campanella either beat it senseless or warded it off.

Leaving Kalium City without her felt wrong, so Cynthia wanted to ask their new (temporary) employer a question. "Um…Mr. Gropius? We have a third person in our party. Would it be okay to have her stay with us?"

"I don't need three bodyguards," Ghetsis replied. "If I'm being honest; I really only need one. I don't care if she stays in the suite with you, though. Is she in as much danger as the two of you?"

Right before Cynthia could say yes, Cyrus spoke up. "No. Jet never saw her with us. We'll let her know where we're staying once we're out of Kalium City."

Judging from how loudly Campanella had screamed last night, Cyrus wouldn't be surprised if that Croagunk hurt her badly enough to merit a trip to the hospital. Each minute he and Cynthia stayed here was another minute Jet could move forward with his threat. As much as he hated making this decision, he knew this was what they needed to do. He also knew Cynthia would be too sentimental to make this choice.

"Grab your things, then. We're leaving."

…

It took less than ten minutes for Ghetsis to secure a taxi. In that time, the two kids hurriedly wrote a thank you note to Zed and Campanella, then placed it behind the front desk. When they woke up in the morning, Zed would find it right beside his computer. Cynthia wished they could have done more, but time was of the essence.

Their cab driver was a college-aged woman with fuchsia hair and a lot of piercings. She also didn't talk very much. While Cynthia was mildly disappointed that it wasn't the same driver who gave them the scenic tour yesterday, Cyrus was privately relieved. He didn't want to see any more familiar faces in this city, nor did he ever want to come back.

The morning sun spread its light across the blocky, graffitied buildings. For everyone who didn't have a target on their backs, this meant that curfew was over and the city was once more free to explore. As they drove past; neon lights in storefronts began to light up, indicating the owners were ready to accept patrons. Cyrus recognized a few of the words as they passed: _bakery, convenience store, pharmacy_. Cynthia also spotted Café Khismatullina was open. She could even see the owner sweeping the sidewalk.

To everyone else, this was just another day in the City of Second-Rates. To them, this was good riddance to a lot of bad rubbish.

Since all three travelers were in the back of the cab, seating was rather tight. Cynthia was the most petite of the three, so she'd offered to take the middle seat. Rightly or wrongly, she felt a bit safer with Cyrus to her left and Ghetsis to her right. It meant that if something tried to spy on the car, it would be that much more difficult to spot her. She kept her hood up, crouched down, and just let Ghetsis do all the talking to the driver.

In order to get to the harbor, the driver had to go past Katarina Square. Yesterday, Cynthia had wanted to explore every part of the square and learn more about the city's history. Now all she could think about was how the most beautiful building of them all housed a man who wanted her dead.

The gym's lights were already on. Even from the car, she could hear music blasting at full volume to notify everyone in close proximity that Jet Melkadze was awake and ready to accept new challengers eager to earn a Potassium Badge. The worst part was that she could even hear his voice singing along to the lyrics of some old, bombastic imperial march.

The lyrics were Kinzonian, so she had no clue what Jet was saying. It didn't matter. Just the blast of the trumpets and trombones paired with his aggressive tone made her feel threatened. She leaned a bit more tightly into Cyrus, hoping he didn't mind the contact.

"Please say something if I'm being a bother," she murmured. He kept quiet.

The taxi finally stopped less than half a kilometer from the Rivera boardwalk. "This is the docking station for the Hydrargyrum City ferry," the driver informed Ghetsis. "This is where you wanted to go, да?"

"Correct." Ghetsis pulled some PokéDollars out of his wallet and handed them to the driver, thanking her for getting them here safely. He even gave a couple of extra dollars as a tip. Instead of getting out of her car, the driver popped the trunk so everyone could grab their luggage. Once the trunk shut, she took off without another word. "That's one thing I'll give the Kinzonians. Their cab drivers are friendlier than ours."

Cynthia could attest to that. She hadn't ridden too many taxis in Unova; but the cab she'd taken in Castelia City was dirty, smelly, and piloted by a way-too-chatty driver. It would have been one thing if that guy had wanted to talk about the city's history or some of the cool things she could do in the area. The fact he was old enough to be her father and kept asking her if she had a boyfriend just made the whole ride feel sleazy, uncomfortable, and gross.

Yes. At least Kinzo's drivers weren't as nosy.

The moment the car drove off, Cynthia felt a pair of eyes staring directly at her back. She shuddered, but was too afraid to turn around. She picked up her pace, refused to let go of Cyrus's hand, and followed Ghetsis's lead onto the ferry. As he promised, he bought all three tickets and gestured for the two teens to sit beside him on one of the benches.

Even this early in the morning, the boat was crammed to near-full capacity with displaced and frustrated tourists. Every last one of them had wanted to leave Kalium City days ago, but couldn't. They chatted among themselves quite loudly, announcing how relieved they were that the KSP figured out who bombed the train. Others complained about the Metro being so badly packed that overflow had to pay extra to use the boats.

Cynthia didn't recognize most of these people, but she spotted a few familiar faces from the Kalium Lodge. Most of them, she hadn't talked with enough to catch their names. She'd really only seen them at dinnertime or in the lobby. The only person whose name she knew was Rudolf, but that was only because Zed screeched at him last night. She had no interest in talking to him, assuming she even could. He didn't seem to speak the language.

She didn't want him to see her, either. The less attention she attracted to herself on the boat, the better.

While she would have preferred to sit somewhere in the middle, those seats were already taken. The only place where they could sit together with their luggage in a group of three was in the back. "Don't let me get up for any reason," she told Cyrus. "I don't even care if I have to use the bathroom. Don't let me out of your sight."

Until they were safe at the hotel, her nerves wouldn't calm down. For all she knew, Jet could have paid one of these strangers to push her into the water. She held onto her friend, trying her best to stop shaking. ' _It's over,_ ' she kept telling herself. ' _You're almost out of the city. He can't hurt us here…_ ' Or could he?

More than once, Cynthia had to shake away those awful thoughts. Her attention instead turned toward the dock, waiting to see if anyone else would come into focus. While she saw no sign of Jet's Croagunk or any of his other Pokémon, she did see a few frustrated trainers shaking their fists. They shouted, demanding that the driver turn around to accommodate them.

Among them, with blood-soaked bandaged hands and several bruises on her aching body, was Campanella. They were still close enough for Cynthia to briefly lock eyes with her. In them, she had expected to find relief in knowing her two traveling companions were safe. Instead, Cynthia found something rather soul-crushing.

Campanella may have told them to go on without her, but she never expected them to actually do it.

…

 **Author's Note: This chapter marks the end of the Kalium City arc. I hope you had as much fun reading it as I did writing it! The Hydrargyrum City arc will pick up in the next chapter. In this next arc; you can expect additional character growth, the return (and introduction) of some other important recurring characters, and even Professor Myrtle's backstory!**

 **If you want a sneak preview as to what this city will be like, Hydrargyrum City was based off a real city in the former Soviet bloc: Yalta, Ukraine. Some of Yalta's most famous landmarks (Villa Ermengarde, Swallow's Nest Castle, and the Druzhba Sanatorium) will be appearing under new names…and with a twist!**

 **See you in Hydrargyrum City!**


End file.
